


Bent

by tryslora



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Harry Potter Next Generation AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-17
Updated: 2010-02-17
Packaged: 2017-10-07 08:24:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 38,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a Potterverse AU inspired by situations and events in the game The Cold War, Nigel Longbottom (son of Hermione and Neville) and Julien Malfoy (son of Draco and Gabrielle) begin Hogwarts as enemies but find a way to resolve those differences throughout the years, becoming friends, and eventually more.</p><p>Please note that while this story as a whole is marked explicit, the only explicit scenes occur in the final chapter, after the characters are of age.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based on characters and situations inspired by the game The Cold War. Many thanks are due to players from that game for answering questions and supplying help with their characters as I worked on this piece.
> 
> Please note that while this work is marked explicit, the explicit text only appears in the final chapter, after the characters are of age.
> 
> **Disclaimer:** I do not own, nor gain anything from, the world of Harry Potter. That belongs to JK Rowling. I just like to write in it, and Nigel, Julien, and Adriana are mine all mine and live in my head.

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[character: adriana fawcett-edgecombe](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/character:+adriana+fawcett-edgecombe), [character: julien malfoy](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/character:+julien+malfoy), [character: nigel longbottom](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/character:+nigel+longbottom), [fic](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/fic), [game: the cold war](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/game:+the+cold+war), [set2music](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/set2music)  
  
---|---  
  
### Chapter 1

**Year One**

_I've got that lefty curse  
where everything I do is  
flipped and awkwardly reversed_  
\-- The Academy Is...

The Longbottom family had managed to earn a reputation for excellence at Hogwarts.

Nigel, the youngest of the Longbottom children, ignored everything his father had done during the war and instead blamed his eldest sister Neah. She had blazed through the school as a Gryffindor with her father's bravery, yet she was a far more outgoing and naturally effervescent child than Neville had ever been. Her intelligence matched her mother Luna's, and she had gained popularity when her mother's ghost followed her to the school. As a star Seeker on the Quidditch team, she helped take her house to the glory of the House Cup the last four years she was at the school. Neah had left an indelible stamp on her house, and a difficult legacy to follow.

But when the next Longbottom child, the first of Neville and his second wife, Hermione, entered the school, she had no difficulty living up to the standard Neah had set. Nor did her sisters. While none of the other girls flew for Quidditch, Shannon and Rosemary were both active in the fledgling academic leagues that had sprung up between the European magical schools. And Heather proved she had her father's green thumb and her mother's intelligence by working with on an independent study in her fourth year to develop new crossbreeds and methods of growth in Herbology.

By the time Nigel came to Hogwarts, everyone expected great things. After all, this was Neville's only son. He would be as brave as his father, as smart as his mother, and likely surpass the greatness that his elder sisters were creating. Shannon was head girl, Heather was on to a second independent study, and Rosemary had just returned from two weeks special study in France at Beauxbatons.

And so, on that first day, Nigel stood on the station platform, waiting for the train and shaking in his shoes. It wasn't that he didn't believe in his heritage. He read voraciously, and knew he would have no difficulty with the expected work. For the last year Neah had been ignoring the fact that Nigel had never particularly liked heights the way she did and telling him for the last year that he ought to go out for Quidditch, as he was slight and quick on a broom. But as uncertain as he was about that, Nigel was desperately nervous over how he would figure out his own place at the school, and not remain in the shadows of his elder sisters.

At that moment, his sisters were giggling with their friends, far away from where he waited with the bags. Shannon was with the seventh year students, of course, and Heather was somehow in the midst of a gaggle of fifth year boys as she blushed prettily at their attentions. Rosemary huddled with third year girls, practicing small hexes that she knew she oughtn't, but couldn't resist tossing at Heather's feet to see if she could embarrass her. Nigel's mother and father were talking to other adults, and Nigel was, for the moment, on his own.

When the train came, it was a rush to embark, and amidst a flurry of kisses and hugs, Nigel quickly found himself alone in a compartment, where he managed to make himself feel nearly invisible as he settled in, intending to read for the entire trip.

It wasn't that there weren't children that he knew. He had his siblings, of course, and there were a smattering of others. He knew Seph Pucey, the youngest of Adrian and Ginny, and someone he considered close to a cousin. But Seph was in Slytherin, and was a third year, and wasn't likely to stoop to taking care of an ickle firstie on the first day when he had mates to catch up with. Or there was Alicia Weasley, Charlie's youngest daughter, also a first year, but she was closeted cheerily with Adriana Fawcett-Edgecombe, and Nigel knew better than to interrupt gossiping girls, no matter how much they had played together as tots.

And the worst, of course, was Julien. Out of all of them, he likely knew Julien Malfoy the best. After all, his mother and Draco had struck up their unlikely friendship long before even Shannon was born. So when Draco finally took Gabrielle Delacour to wife, and eventually (after much difficulty on Draco's part) produced a child, that child became almost as much of a part of the Longbottom household as the natural born children, despite Neville's dislike of the father. Draco had little interest in his son save as something pretty to be dressed and taken out. And Gabrielle had never wanted to marry Draco (nor endure his limited attentions). So the child was spoiled, cherished, and ignored, and Hermione Longbottom had taken it upon herself to ensure that the child had at least _something_ of a childhood.

Nigel grew up hating Julien.

He could never seem to escape him, as the boy was at his home almost as often as he was with Draco and Gabrielle. And Hermione treated him as she did any of her children, with love and tenderness, a sometimes sharp tongue for transgression, and liberal timeouts when the Malfoy attitude asserted itself, as it often did. When Neah dragged all of her siblings into the air for flying lessons, Julien went right along with the Longbottoms, showing that blood did run true in that respect; the boy flew like he was meant to sit a broom. But then, so did Nigel, flying brilliantly despite a loathing of heights. And Julien, in his infinite competitiveness, goaded Nigel into flying further and higher, until he pushed Nigel to the point where the younger by one month boy determined never to fly with Julien again. Which would only last until his sisters wanted a "quick game of Quidditch" and then there they all would be on brooms once more, and the competition would begin all over again.

The door to his compartment startled him out of his reading revery. Didn't that figure? Think of the devil, and there he was, sliding the door closed behind him and slouching down onto the bench opposite Nigel.

"I find it amazing how well you hide, Longbottom," Julien looked at him, as if the darkening purple around his left eye weren't anything odd. "Do you know I think I've been past every compartment before I happened upon this one?"

Nigel carefully placed his bookmark and set the book on the seat next to him. "Were you looking for me?" The proper question would be _"Why?"_ but he was certain he'd find out soon enough. Whatever use Julien had for him, he wouldn't stand his company longer than need be.

Julien's full lips pursed, "I just said as much. I know you've lost your mind in those books of yours, but do try to keep up." He withdrew his wand and placed a careful lock on the compartment door. It wouldn't hold if anyone with any actual schooling tried to open it, but would keep casual entrants away. "I know that you've managed to learn a spell or three since you got your wand last July. So you'll heal this for me." He gestured at the darkening skin, grey gaze daring Nigel to say no. Or ask why.

Which did nothing to deter Nigel. "Why should I bother? I'm not your trained lapdog, Malfoy."

"Because if I'm seen coming from the same compartment as you with this," a quick flick of graceful fingers indicated the bruise once more, "your esteemed mother, our Professor of Charms, will want to know why. And you'd rather not have your first day at school be marred by parental intrusion or argument, I'm certain." He crossed his arms, one eyebrow arched. "Am I correct?"

It wouldn't be so bad as that. But there would be questions, and it would be noticed, and as the last of the Longbottom clan to enter Hogwarts, he didn't really want any more notice than he already had. "Fine," he agreed. "But you'll need to come over here." He moved his bag, clearing space upon the bench.

With a faint roll of his eyes, Julien did as requested, slouching next to Nigel. "Does it please you to order a Malfoy about, Longbottom?"

"You requested the service, so the least you can do is make my job simpler," Nigel replied mildly. He withdrew his wand, working to remember the simple spell for easing bruises. He had actually learned it long ago, after having had it applied so terribly many times during his clumsy childhood (his mother swore he gained what lack of grace he had from his father), but he had never been able to cast it on his own until he had received his sturdy oak wand for his birthday.

"Very well," Julien said, then went still under Nigel's touch.

Nigel carefully looked over the bruise, a swatch of blue and purple against skin which was naturally pale. Julien's appearance had always had an ethereal quality, with Malfoy and Veela blood combined, and this injury leant stark reality to his countenance, grounding him somehow. Nigel pushed Julien's chin length fringe back from his face so he could test the boundaries of the bruise with gentle fingertips. "I can't believe you've been fighting already. If you think Mum would have my hide for striking you, she'd have yours worse if she knew you'd gone and done it to yourself. And I doubt either of your parents would disagree with whatever punishment you earned yourself."

"My father would be devastated to know that I had done something to mar my appearance, and that the colour clashed with my robes," Julien said, tone snide. "Not to mention that I had resorted to something so physical as fisticuffs rather than some sparkling brilliant hex. But my fist was closer than my wand." He rubbed at a second set of bruises over his knuckles, the shading of someone's teeth obvious in the fair skin.

Nigel noted the motion, and knew he would heal that as well without being asked. It wasn't out of fondness for Julien, for there was none of that. But if he was to heal him, he might as well do it properly. "And the other?"

"I caught Seph mincing about, claiming to be my father at the last OWLS meeting."

Nigel didn't know what to do about the flash of hurt in Julien's grey gaze, and so he ignored it. "Seph's always been a brilliant mimic, so I expect he nailed your father dead on."

"Do you want your lip bloodied as well?" Julien snapped. "I won't abide by anyone making a fool of a Malfoy, even a Pucey."

Nigel grabbed the other boy's cheek, holding him as he drew the wand around his eye. "Stop wiggling unless you want me to poke your eye out, you git." Leaning in close, he stared at Julien until those grey eyes met his, and Julien stilled. "There you go." He spoke the words to the spell carefully, drawing the proper patterns with his wand until the bruise faded. Without a word, he grabbed Julien's hand and did the same to smooth over his roughened knuckles. "There you go, not a blemish in sight."

Julien rubbed at his knuckles and flexed his hand, not looking at Nigel.

"For what it's worth, Seph Pucey's a right arse sometimes."

Julien snorted. "If your mother heard your language, she'd have your hide."

"She might agree, even if he's like a cousin, what with the Weasley connection." For the Longbottoms and Weasleys had always stayed close, ever since the war, and even moreso since Ron's death long before Nigel was ever born. And Ginny and Hermione had never been less than dearest friends, so Ginny's three children were frequent visitors at the Longbottom household as well.

When the other boy didn't respond, Nigel's gaze drifted to the window. "We're pulling into the station."

Julien stood quickly, and unlocked the door. "Not a word of this to anyone," he snarled quietly. "I'll not have it said you're my nursemaid."

"And I'll not be it, either," Nigel snapped back. He turned his back as the other boy left, gathering up his bag of books and the carefully packed broom that had been a birthday gift from his eldest sister. She seemed to think he'd be Seeking for whatever house he ended up in (Gryffindor was to be expected, of course), despite Nigel's protest that he had no intention of playing the game at all. Even if he could, as a first year student.

Broom and bag in hand he took a deep breath. Time to face Hogwarts and see if he could live up to the Longbottom reputation.

#

Nigel's arrival had started off well enough. Mum clapped her hands and everyone snapped to attention, first years going in the boats which would take them into Hogwarts for the first time while everyone else piled into the carriages. Nigel had waved goodbye to his sisters, sure that he would be dining with them at the Gryffindor table soon enough.

There were almost forty new students in his year, divided roughly in half, although Nigel was fairly certain he'd counted a few more boys than girls. He'd found himself in a corner with Adriana and Alicia, simply because they knew each other and now that they had finally arrived, nerves overrode any tendency the girls had towards girlish giggles. He could see Julien across the room where they waited, standing tall (he was already a good three or four inches taller than most of the boys, and at least six inches taller than Nigel himself) and proud, with no sign left of the beating he had taken. Julien, of course, already had a crowd around him, both boys and girls listening to his every word. It was his charisma, Nigel knew; after all, Julien had his mother's blood. But still, it made it impossible to speak to anyone else when most were enthralled by the boy he hated.

Which only made him hate him more.

They filtered in, one by one, to take their turn with the sorting hat. Adriana giggled nervously, slipping one hand into Alicia's and the other into Nigel's, squeezing tightly before her name was called. Nigel surreptitiously wiped his palm against his robes as the girl walked away, her pale ponytail swinging, and he wondered if she'd felt just how sweaty his own palms were.

Then his name was called, and he took his place on the stool, staring out at no one in particular as the hat was placed on his head. It barely came to rest there before it called out in a voice that echoed off the walls, "Ravenclaw!"

What? Nigel turned as he stood, but he was already being waved away. "No," he choked. The hat had gotten it wrong, he couldn't possibly be a Ravenclaw. He liked his books, yes, but his Mum had been a Gryffindor, and his Dad had been a Gryffindor, and all four sisters had been Gryffindor. This was utterly impossible.

But there sat Adriana under the Ravenclaw flags that hung over one of the four long banquet tables, waving him over enthusiastically. "Isn't this terribly exciting?" she whispered to him, making room for him to sit next to her on the bench. "My Mums were both Ravenclaw and they're going to be so pleased that I am too. And look," she nudged him with her shoulder, "doesn't your own mum look terribly proud?"

She did. Professor Longbottom was positively beaming at him, and he managed a smile back, made just slightly broader by hearing that Malfoy had been put into Slytherin (as if he'd be placed anywhere else) and wouldn't plague him by somehow being in the same house. But the smile fell away again as speeches were made, and he picked at his meal. One disappointment already, and he still had one more to go... finding out which wing he would be housed in.

Hermione Longbottom had not stopped trying to reform the Wizarding world as an adult, and she had been instrumental in reorganizing the House structure at Hogwarts. Claiming that the Houses as they were fostered competition and animosity, she devised a new system which allowed alumni to retain House pride, but encouraged more cooperation between students.

Now the hat sorted them into Houses which would be their allegiance for Quidditch and for the House cup, but they then all entered a lottery to determine which dormitory would house them for their seven year stay at Hogwarts, and all classes were mixed according to scheduling and ability. Not being housed with this three siblings who remained at Hogwarts wouldn't be entirely bad, Nigel had already decided. Shannon and Heather were in one dormitory, and Rose in another. And when the time came and the bowl was extended to Nigel, he drew his selection and discovered that he would be in the same dorm as Rose. And Adriana from his own table, and Alicia Weasley from the Gryffindor table.

He watched as the bowl was taken to each table in turn, and the boys selected their lots. He didn't know the boys selected from Hufflepuff or Gryffindor, both Muggleborn he guessed. He carefully memorized their names and faces -- Ian Wrestham and Declan Johnson -- as it wouldn't do to forget. He couldn't help but recognize Chase Zabini of Slytherin, whose features echoed his father's exotic eyes, and watched as he exchanged words with the final boy selected for their room. Julien. Again.

After eleven years of having him in his home, but knowing he could escape at any time, now he would have to live with the other boy. He wasn't quite sure how he would manage without killing the prat.

He headed for the dormitory uncertainly once the meal was done, joining in a group of others heading in that direction, somehow caught between Alicia and Adriana. He saw Julien ahead, explaining something in great detail, to which Chase, Declan and Ian listened avidly. Knowing he couldn't spend the next seven years ostricized in his own room, he swallowed hard and pushed through the crowd to join them.

"It's all at the behest of my grandfather, of course," Julien said. "He knew I wished to play, and of course, Hogwarts wishes his annual endowment, so they've agreed to give it a test run this year. The first time since my father played."

"Play... what?" Nigel asked, although he knew the answer. It couldn't be anything but, after all.

"They're going to allow first years who already know how to sit a broom to test and see if they've got enough experience to try out for their house Quidditch teams." Excitement shone in Ian's eyes, and Nigel had to re-evaluate. Not Muggleborn, but with that accent, not a local boy either. Perhaps Welsh?

"Lovely." Nigel well-remembered the promise he'd made to Shannon, that he would try out for the team as soon as he could. She had assumed he'd play for Gryffindor, and he'd assumed he wouldn't have to worry about it until his second year. It seemed they were both wrong.

"Scared, Longbottom?" Julien arched one delicate eyebrow, knowing full well how well Nigel flew, and how he felt about doing so.

Nigel simply looked at him. "Are you going to test?"

"Of course."

A small tight smile. "Well, then, of course I am. After all, we both know I can fly circles around you, Malfoy. What was that about a tree last summer?"

Julien's jaw set, grey eyes filling with forbidding stormclouds. "It was those bloody sprites your sister's so enamored of. Got in my way."

Nigel shrugged, feeling an odd sense of pleasure at the other boy's anger. "Well, then, we'll have to see how the test goes, won't we? When is it?"

"This afternoon," Ian interjected. "We'll all be going down to watch, even those of us who can't fly yet. Madam Hooch says it ought to be a good first lesson."

This afternoon. On a broom. After traveling, after being sorted, after _everything_ else of the day... now he was expected to fly. And to show Malfoy up. Nigel drew in a deep breath and held it. He was a Longbottom, and nothing was impossible. Of course he'd do what must be done.

#

Out of the nearly forty new students, only seventeen had brought brooms. And after a first quick trip around the pitch had several of those seventeen nearly wobbling straight off their brooms, the field had been narrowed to a mere half dozen, most of whom Nigel had flown with before. There were himself and Julien, of course, and Alicia Weasley and Adriana Fawcett-Edgecombe, both of whom had flown with the crowd in the fields behind the Burrows or on the Longbottom land in Ottery St. Catchpole. The two exceptions were Chase Zabini, who had been raised in Italy and had flown on summer holidays in France with Julien, and Seamus O'Halloran, who'd grown up in Ireland in the shadow of his Quidditch playing father.

Nigel felt a familiar itch in his fingers as the Bludgers came out. Seemed like he always had bruises from the bloody things, and these were bound to be fresher than the ones he shared with his friends and siblings back home. But the Snitch... ah, there it was, delicate wings fluttering so fast they blurred into pale gold fog. A soft hiss of breath to his right, and he knew Julien had it in his sights as well. Familiar grounds from hundreds of practice games, and for that moment his fear of heights fell away, sluffed off by competition. He couldn't let Malfoy show him up, not here, not on this first day. Not when he had a reputation to make for himself.

Half an ear paid attention to Madam Hooch's instructions. No game, two upper classmen with Beater's bats. One upper classmen Keeper by the goals at the far end. Three upper classmen as Chasers to help defend. And the six first year students, either Chasing or Seeking, to see how well they flew. Nigel processed it all and discarded it as unimportant. Julien was focused on the Snitch and so was he, and as soon as it flew from Madam Hooch's hand, he launched after it.

"Don't think you'll get it," Julien growled, close enough that his robes fluttered against Nigel's. "See how high it's climbing. Go on, Longbottom, look down why don't you. Think we're nearly at the top of the turrets."

Nigel didn't dare look anywhere but the Snitch. Not at Julien, not at the castle, and certainly not at the ground. The Snitch was a flash of light in the bright sun, blinking in and out of his vision, veering sharply to the right. Without thinking, he veered with it, muttering, "Get out of my _way_, Malfoy."

And when Julien didn't move, blinded for the moment by sunlight, Nigel went through that space anyway.

It seemed like the world stopped at the moment of impact. Julien's surprised shout, the way he tipped away. Nigel reached out, grabbing for his robes and capturing only air as Julien tumbled down.

_Oh bloody hell._

Nigel didn't think how far away the ground was (or how fast it approached), simply pointed his broom straight down and dove. He couldn't do it, couldn't move that _fast_ and Julien slipped away. A moment before impact, something caught Julien, rolling him, tumbling him arse over teakettle across the grounds until he flopped, limp, upon the grass. Nigel stopped too fast, landing hard on hands and knees, broom falling aside. One of the upper classmen reached Julien first, calling back, "He'll be alright, just a bit banged up. Needs to go off to the hospital wing."

Heart thundering in his chest, Nigel closed his eyes. _Thank Merlin._ He hadn't killed him, which had been his first thought when he saw him fall. At the sound of a throat clearing, he opened his eyes and looked up. "Are you injured, Longbottom?" Madam Hooch inquired.

He swallowed hard and stood, dusting himself off. "Bruised, ma'am."

"Then you'll accompany Mister Malfoy to the hospital wing. It seems he requires someone to lean on."

Nigel looked to where Julien stood with the help of an older boy, weight off of his right ankle, which hung at an odd angle. Nigel swallowed hard. "Yes, ma'am."

They walked in silence at first, taking time to find a rhythm where Nigel's shorter stride could manage with Julien's hopping motion. "You don't need to kill me, Longbottom," Julien snapped.

Nigel didn't reply, silently delivering him to one cot, then retreating to another, where he waited for his own treatment, and the lecture he knew would be coming shortly from his Mum.

#

That had been unpleasant. Nigel had known that schooling at Hogwarts was going to have its disadvantages, and that being the son of a professor would be one of those. But the lecture, the disappointment, was more than he could handle to end this day. Even her pleasure at his sorting into Ravenclaw was eclipsed by her one requirement: he had to apologize to Julien.

He walked out of the side room he had been in while speaking to his mother and made his way to where Julien lay on one of the beds. Looking around he managed to find a chair and dragged it over to sit there, wondering if the other boy were even conscious.

"What do you want, Longbottom? Come to finish the job?"

Nigel winced. "I didn't mean to nearly kill you, Malfoy. You didn't turn when the Snitch did."

Julien shoved one elbow hard against the bed, leveraging himself to sit halfway up. "What are you on about? The Snitch was about twenty feet ahead of us before you decided to barrel into me chasing after sunlight."

Nigel's brow furrowed. "No, it wasn't. It had just shifted when I went after it."

"This'll be an easy season if you make the team, Longbottom." Julien fell back with a mostly hidden groan. "Blind as a bat, and wants to be a Seeker. All the better for the rest of us."

Nigel decided not to fight; it wasn't worth it. Best to just apologize and leave, as he rather thought Mum wouldn't think "I didn't mean to" was a proper apology. But he had to ask, "What's the verdict? I mean, injury-wise. How bad?"

"Slight concussion." Julien closed his eyes. "Broken ankle. They've fixed me up best they can, but I'm to stay here overnight so they can make sure I'm not gone dotty."

"How will they tell?"

Julien gave him a withering look. "Are you planning on staying here as well, Longbottom? Because let me tell you, if you do plan on it, get me a bedpan, as I'm feeling a strong bout of nausea coming on from staring at your face."

Nigel flushed. "Er. No. I just... I mean... I need to... I'm sorrry," he finally managed to stammer out. "I'm sorry."

Julien's eyes fluttered closed again. "Apology accepted. Now... leave me alone. And stay out of my way when I'm back. I don't want to even know you're in my room."

If Nigel had had any say in it, he wouldn't even be there. But they were stuck with the situation now. "It's only seven years, Malfoy. Six years and ten months, actually. Surely you can rise above anything and manage to last that long."

"Course I can. Question is, can a wussy little Longbottom?" One eye cracked open, then closed again. "Go."

Lips pressed, arms crossed, Nigel looked at Julien for a long moment. Then he turned to leave, determined to enjoy this one last Malfoy-free night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is based on characters and situations inspired by the game The Cold War. Many thanks are due to players from that game for answering questions and supplying help with their characters as I worked on this piece.
> 
> Please note that while this work is marked explicit, the explicit text only appears in the final chapter, after the characters are of age.
> 
> **Disclaimer:** I do not own, nor gain anything from, the world of Harry Potter. That belongs to JK Rowling. I just like to write in it, and Nigel, Julien, and Adriana are mine all mine and live in my head.

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[character: adriana fawcett-edgecombe](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/character:+adriana+fawcett-edgecombe), [character: julien malfoy](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/character:+julien+malfoy), [character: nigel longbottom](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/character:+nigel+longbottom), [fic](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/fic), [game: the cold war](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/game:+the+cold+war), [set2music](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/set2music)  
  
---|---  
  
### Chapter 2

**Year Two**

_Make it shine,  
lay your whole world on the line_  
\-- Quarterflash

Five years and seven months left before he was able to be rid of Julien. Nigel refused to count down to the point of days (or hours), but after a horrid morning in Potions class, he was most definitely counting _something_. Julien had _somehow_ managed to upend Nigel's cauldron, drenching his robes in an incipient concoction which did no damage save turning every inch of Nigel's clothing and skin a brilliant royal purple. After two hours in Madam Pomfrey's care he again approximated a sort of peach with shades of fuscia, and he had to rush if he were going to finish his schoolwork so he didn't have to worry about it during the match the next day.

He wasn't in the mood to be interrupted, and certainly wasn't in the mood for the faint giggles and whispers that followed him as he made his way towards the common room with his books. Had news of his latest accident spread so quickly? Oh... he spotted the ghost as soon as he stepped into the room, where she sat calmly in mid-air, surrounded by students. She looked up and smiled, giving a small wave, and he half-heartedly waved back. "Hullo, Luna," he called out, determined to be polite to this ghostly mother by proxy. But seeing her made him look around quickly, because if Luna was at Hogwarts again, that meant that...

"Hullo, Nigel. Didn't think I'd miss out on your first Quidditch match, did you?"

Nigel smiled weakly at his eldest sister. "Hullo, Neah." It mystified him sometimes. Neah was the eldest, and had been about to finish Hogwarts when Nigel was born, and yet, somehow the two of them remained close despite the difference in years. Neah claimed it was because not only were they the bookends of the family, they both belonged in the air. She had given him his first broom when he was seven, the one Ron Weasley had made for her before he died when she was very young. Then she had taught him to fly past his fears, despite them, and to take advantage of the skills he'd been born with.

She hadn't made him _like_ flying, but she'd made sure he _could_. And out of the entire family, only she and he had any true talent with a broom.

"Are you blushing, or pink?" Neah asked, as blunt as she always was, words softened by a grin. "Come on then, put those books away. I want to talk to you, and here you are buried in schoolwork. Just like a Ravenclaw to be thinking about marks when you ought to be out and warming up for the match tomorrow. Didn't I hear that you're taking on Slytherin?"

Nigel was actually rather glad that Slytherin was to be their first match, since he was still rather up in the air, so to speak, about playing at all. But everyone expected it, and he couldn't resist the chance to show Julien up. Especially since Julien had made Slytherin's team the year before and spent a year lording it over Nigel for not making Ravenclaw's. "First match, yes. Handily, I know all the secrets of their Seeker." It was a boast, yes, but he offered a bit of a grin that hid his nerves, and motioned for Neah to follow along as he made his way back towards the dorms.

It still mystified him a bit that girls could walk into the boys' dorm any time they wanted, but magic clearly kept the boys out of the girls' dorms. But it meant that Neah could walk along while he stashed his books and took a moment to see if he could rub another layer of fuscia off of his exposed skin. He pushed her out when he stripped down to change into clean robes.

"Oi!" he called out as the door opened again. "Give a bloke a bit of peace."

"Don't worry, Longbottom, your sister's in the hallway holding court. Merlin, that shite stained you everywhere, didn't it?"

Julien's sharp laugh had Nigel spinning on his heel, hands fisted at his sides. "You could've let well enough alone, Malfoy," he growled, stalking across the room, pink all the way down to his pants. "Now I've robes to replace, and I'm likely to glow fuscia for the next week. Is there a reason you're such an arse or is it just natural inclination?"

Julien snorted, throwing a blanket at him. "You're too easy, Longbottom. Cover up before you blind me. Maybe I just wanted to make sure no one could miss seeing you in the air; the flying pink elephant."

Nigel caught the blanket, throwing it around himself to hide slender pinked shoulders from view. "Bugger off, Malfoy," he muttered. "I've already got the point that you can't stand me, and I can't think why Wick insists on pairing the two of us off during Potions. Have you been slipping him bribes under the table?"

"I'll never tell," Julien drawled.

And Nigel saw red. He drew back and struck before Julien had a chance to recover, the blanket falling to the floor behind him. Julien crashed backwards, knocking over books before landing on his bed, rubbing at his cheek. Nigel shook his hand; he'd forgotten how much it _hurt_ to strike someone like that. The bruise was already mottling Julien's fair skin when he turned away.

Which was a mistake, as Julien launched himself at Nigel's back, grabbing him and wrestling him to the ground. The two boys rolled across the floor, stray kicks knocking things over with crashes until the door banged open.

"Nigel Longbottom! Julien Malfoy! Stop that this _instant_!"

It was easy to forget Neah was an adult until she was angry, and then it became inherently obvious that she was one of _them_. Both boys scrambled to their feet, taking several steps to put space between themselves. Julien crossed his arms, drawing himself up to full height, head tilted as he looked down his nose at Neah. Even at twelve he had already grown taller than her petite height.

"Don't you try to Malfoy-attitude me," Neah tapped him sharply on the nose. "It never worked with Mama Mi and it won't work with me. I changed your nappies, and I won't bloody well let you intimidate me. As for you," she rounded on Nigel. "Fighting? When you've Quidditch tomorrow? Are you mad? Get dressed and stop this nonsense immediately and it'll stay between us and the blokes in the hall who could easily hear you being hooligans. But if I catch you at this again, you can be sure you'll be losing points for both your Houses."

Nigel flushed, adding red to the fuscia of his skin. "Alright, Neah."

Julien sniffed haughtily. "If you'd like to know, your brother landed the first punch." He didn't bother to indicate the thick bruise on his cheek. "But no matter. We'll finish this on the pitch tomorrow, Longbottom."

Nigel groaned as he left, turning to grab clothes and pull them quickly on. "Neah, don't fight my fights for me."

Neah ruffled his hair. "Long as you don't fight them either. I know you and Julien've always had your differences, and I can't blame you for that. But try not to do anything that's going to get you in trouble. Malfoys have a brilliant tendency to sluff trouble off onto other shoulders. Remember the time Rose got in trouble for the damage he did to Dad's rose garden? I mean, it was accidental, and he was terribly young..."

Nigel frowned, remembering it. It was one of those rare moments where Julien's charm had slipped past his parents' defenses, and he and Neah had been bewildered by the acceptance given to the story, even though it was utter fabrication. He sank down onto the bed, idly rubbing at his brow and feeling a bruise there. "I'll do my best, Neah. But on the Pitch all bets are off. Alright?"

Neah grinned, sitting down next to him to tug him into a fond hug. "If competition with Malfoy keeps you on a broom rather than hiding from heights, I'm all for it. You're going to be the best Seeker Ravenclaw's ever seen, if not the best this _school_ has ever seen."

"Except for you?"

She laughed. "Well of course, except for me."

#

"And Malfoy dives for the Snitch as Flint takes the Quaffle, handing it off to Hawthorne who takes it in... saved by Bell! And Longbottom gets in the way as Bell throws it out. What's he thinking? Malfoy's got something in his sights and Longbottom's going in the other direction entirely."

Nigel ignored Edwin Weasley's commentary, hovering as he watched the Snitch. It was out of his reach, with the Slytherin Beaters in the way, and it wasn't near where Julien was either. Ridiculous attempt at the Wronski Feint, poorly enough executed that it couldn't catch NIgel out.

"Move, Longbottom!" Samantha Jones slid by him, close enough that her robes ruffling in the wind brushed his shoulder. "You've a job to do. Don't freeze up and make me regret taking you on."

"Yes, Captain." He rose up, then let the broom drop abruptly, sinking below where the Beaters waited. Leaning down low on his broom he continued to drop, grunting when he felt a Bludger clip his hip. Why did he play this game again? Then Julien sped into his sight and he remembered. To beat Julien.

"Score's now 80 to 10, Slytherin over Ravenclaw. Things are starting to look pretty grim unless Longbottom can manage to spot the golden Snitch. Holy... Merlin! Nigel, you're _glowing!_"

What? Nigel twisted about, setting himself tumbling on the broom as he tried to catch a glimpse of his own skin somehow. Edwin was right; the fuscia spots on his skin had started glowing, shining in the sunlight like reflections off of gemstones.

"Well, isn't this a new one? Rookie Seeker in his opening match and Longbottom's fumblewanded experimentation has him glowing like the jewel in the Ravenclaw crown. The only question is, is this actually a brilliant plot to dazzle Malfoy's eyes and give Longbottom an edge, or is it just another example of magic gone wrong?" Edwin's announcement met a ripple of laughter through the stands.

A Bludger whizzed by his head and Nigel knew the answer to that; he was now hideously visible, thanks to Julien's prank in Potions the day before, and the Beaters weren't likely to let up. The only advantage he might have was with Malfoy himself, who was lost in laughter for the moment.

Nigel didn't dare say, or gesture, what came to mind. Instead he dodged his own teammates, nodding when Samantha snapped at him to get his head on the Pitch already, and zoomed out past Julien, diving down after the Snitch.

His lead didn't last long, Julien catching up and pacing him. The other boy didn't look at him, but still spoke, an edge of sharp laughter outlining his words. "What in Merlin's name did you _do_ to that potion, Longbottom? I never thought pink was your colour, but turns out it's quite fetching. My father might even agree, although I can't think he'd approve of the sparkling aspect."

Nigel swung sideways, letting his broom sway until he brushed into Julien. Oh _ow_, he'd forgotten the Bludger hit, and he winced away quickly, even as Julien set space between them.

"Playing dirty?" Julien snickered. "That's not the Ravenclaw way, Longbottom, and can't think your Gryffindor siblings would approve."

"I'm not the one who played dirty, damnit," Nigel swore in a low voice. "You did this to me, Malfoy, and you'll pay for cheating." Oh wait, Snitch! He pulled back on the broom, going upside down and rolling over, Julien close behind as they chased after their quarry.

"Me?" Julien laughed, soft and low, pulling ahead of Nigel so his voice floated back on the wind. "I just bumped you, Longbottom. That potion was all yours. Might be onto something interesting with it, if you can remember what you did. Must be the experimental side of you. Who knew it'd come out like this?"

As the Snitch shifted direction again, both boys pulled back on their brooms, tipping and rolling, dropping several feet and recovering to skim along the ground, robes fluttering behind them. "Ohnoyoudon't," Nigel ground out between his teeth, putting on an extra burst of speed. He felt Julien's foot push off his hip as they jockeyed for space, both reaching out.

Julien's hand closed over the Snitch, Nigel's hand grabbing him. Julien looked over, snarling, snatching his hand back, the Snitch falling away from both of them. As one, the two boys rolled, reaching for the Snitch, elbowing each other as they slid from their brooms and onto the grass. They wrestled, the Snitch trying desperately to escape as they each just barely caught it and then lost it again from well-placed elbows forcing them to let go.

As they finally tumbled to a stop, Julien's hair was loose from its queue, flying around his face as he stood up, pumping his fist in the air, golden Snitch fluttering madly.

"Slytherin has the Snitch and that's the match! Longbottom's first time out has left him with empty hands, but he's showed us new techniques in style and grace."

Nigel came to his knees, one hand out to summon his broom. He sat back against his heels, head bowed, broom across his lap. They'd trusted him to do this, this _one thing_, and he'd come up empty. He knew no one would be able to forget this game, or how badly he'd made a hash of it.

A hand dropped onto his shoulder as Samantha crouched next to him. "T'salright, Longbottom," she said quietly. "Next time we'll cream them. You did a damned good job keeping up with Malfoy. He's a brill flyer, that one, and you'll just show him that you're his equal if not better, soon enough." She paused, squeezing his shoulder, then asked, "What _is_with the pink?"

Nigel made a noise somewhere between a snort and a groan. "Didn't hear about Potions yesterday, did you? Malfoy upended my cauldron."

Samantha laughed as if she couldn't help herself. "Well then, seems you owe him twice over, don't you? Go on in and get yourself fixed up and washed off. Practice tomorrow." Her tone slipped back to all business as she gave him a hand up. "We'll be going over this match in detail and working on the things we missed. Expect bruises."

Nigel idly rubbed his hip. "Already got them, thanks."

#

While Nigel wasn't born to Herbology the way his father, or his sister Heather, were, he still had grown up around the gardens enough to find solace in being surrounded by plants. So late Saturday found him in the greenhouses, having snuck away from well-meaning family and friends to find a bit of time on his own. He had bruises to tend to, and pink skin to recover from sparkling to familiar peach.

Sparkling.

He had vague recall of a book one of the Muggleborn girls had passed around the dormitory, about people who sparkled in the sunlight, and how much the girls had seemed to like the idea. He couldn't quite understand _why_. Or perhaps those folks hadn't sparkled _pink_, which to him seemed to be a dual insult.

The irony was, despite the accidents he had occasionally, Nigel was actually at the top of his class. He knew his material dead on, and in fact, was well ahead of some of his classmates. He just... lost control sometimes during class, when he became distracted. But once a spell was memorized, he rarely forgot it, which served him well where minor healing was concerned after the clumsy bumps and bruises he had gained (and his Mum had healed) while growing up since all those spells were fixed in his mind long before he had a wand to practice with.

And he'd learned tricks along the way, like cutting careful slits to open clothes to expose a wound, healing it, then repairing the clothing again. It made life simpler, when one had so many bruises and bumps as he did, and didn't always have privacy for the healing of them. And so, he did just that, doing what he could to ease the ache in his bones from the match, and healing the abrasions on his forearms and cheek from wrestling with Julien.

He had to stop when he realized he couldn't manage to possibly reach the one on the back of his left shoulder on his own, and so leaned back against the RosenKruntz tree, breathing in the heavy scent.

"Nigel?"

He let his eyes flicker open, focusing slowly on the girl crouched before him, hair pale blond braid swinging over her shoulder as she leaned in. Adriana Fawcett-Edgecombe. Of course, if anyone had come looking for him that wasn't family, it would be her.

"Oh!" She pulled back again. "I wanted to make sure you were alright. That was a bit of crash you had there today."

"Controlled fall," he said, which wasn't entirely the truth. "We had the Snitch. The only question was which one of us had it, and that wasn't able to be settled on a broom."

She sighed and twisted about to settle in next to him, leaning back against the tree as well. "You let him get the best of you and brawled on the Pitch. Haven't you any shame?" She sounded more like her mother Marietta at that moment than the easy going Sally, all sharp edges and disappointment in him.

Nigel glared at her. "Did you come here to yell at me or are you here as a friend, Adriana?"

"Friend," she allowed. "I brought those notes we put together night before last. Before Potions class."

"Hm?" He pulled his legs back, sitting up cross-legged and turning to look at her properly. "Er? Did you find something odd about them?"

Adriana nodded. "Actually, yes, I did. I'm not sure exactly _what_ it was supposed to be, but I did find a bit of something that didn't belong there. It almost looks like you were scribbling something else entirely, only it was mixed into our notes so when I copied it out for you after we were done, I included it of course. This could explain why my potion didn't exactly come out as planned, since I worked from the same notes."

Nigel held out his hand, accepting the parchment from her and carefully unrolling the bit where they'd been scribbling back and forth. He and Adriana had started studying together at the beginning of the year, and it had done both their grades good, as they had a tendency to see what the other one didn't. At least, until now. But they'd spent half the evening talking about Quidditch, as Adriana was excited to see him fly and rather upset not to have made the team herself.

Which, Nigel realized, explained everything. A flush underlined the fuscia tracery on his cheeks. "Ah. Well then. I see what happened."

"What?" Adriana came up on her knees, peering at it curiously.

Nigel tapped the paper where there were a pair of diagrams in the midst of the stirring instructions. It looked as if it could be proper, except that he recognized it, and knew that the odd little notation next to them wasn't _supposed_ to refer to the addition of further ingredients (which he did remember adding before things were spilled). "Do you, er... do you recall that I was telling you about the Captain's new plays? This one... er... this..." his finger traced one of the swirls, "would be the Chasers, er..." his voice faded as Adriana started laughing.

"Are you telling me that we included Quidditch plays and oh! Is that a Bludger? I thought it was a Beetle larva! Oh my..." Adriana fell back, arms wrapped around her belly, failing at holding the laughter in. "I think we... we..." she dissolved into another spate of giggles. "Imagine what we'd have done if we did it on _purpose_!"

Her laughter was infectious, and burbled up, catching Nigel unawares. A moment later found him on his back, laughing as hard as she was. Every time they tried to stop, one of them would start speaking and it would start all over again, until Adriana lay collapsed against him, gasping for breath. "If we stick together, Nigel, we could change the world. Or at least," a gasp of giggles, "turn it sparkly pink."

_Stick together._ Nigel was suddenly aware, for the first time, that this person half sprawled on him, tangled in his arms. wasn't just Adriana Fawcett-Edgecombe, whom he'd known since they were in diapers. This was... well... a girl. And that thought shocked him, and embarrassed him deeply, and he fought to keep his cheeks from warming. "Er, yes, well, it seems we might." He managed to wrestle them both into sitting up, him leaning back against tree with her resting on his shoulder, wrapped in one of his arms. "So what did your potion do at the end? Or didn't it do much of anything?"

Adriana managed a steadying breath. "I don't know, but I had crystals all over the inside of my cauldron. Mine were sort of a red or purple, so I must have done something differently. Or it came out that way because I finished, rather than spilling the lot of it."

He didn't remind her that it was Malfoy who'd done the spilling; it wasn't worth fighting against the way Malfoy's blood wrote it's own version of history. "We might be onto something, you know. Fabricating gems or some such. Could see if there's a market for it." Had her hair always smelled like apples and strawberries? Why was he noticing her hair? It was tickling his nose, the long silky strands somehow seeming to spread out everywhere.

"We might." Adriana slid back down, lying with her head in his lap, looking up at him. She drew in the air as she started down a path of theory, one which quickly drew Nigel away from his confusion and into the pleasure of exercising his brain. He reached for the parchment, quickly scribbling notes in the margins as they talked through what might just work to create something useful. Gemstones that were easily created by spilling out the potion on a surface, but that faded. That, Nigel agreed completely, was the most important part. In the end, they had ideas, but no thought when they might get to test them. Still, the joy was in the discovery and if it had to wait, then it waited, and they would do it another time.

"We do make a good team," Adriana murmured in the end. "How is it we weren't best mates before Hogwarts, Nigel?"

He glanced at her, startled. "Is that what we are then?"

Her head tilted, giving him a look. "Let's see. We study together constantly, we live in each other's pockets except for when my dorm locks you out, and we can finish each other sentences. If that isn't the definition of best mate, I can't think what is."

He flushed faintly. "Well, best mates it is then."

"I knew you'd come round eventually." Adriana managed to sit up, and brushed a light kiss against his cheek. "Just remember, being best mates means you owe me a birthday present in March. Don't worry, I shall remember yours as well in June."

"July."

"Oh, is that when it is?" she teased him, one eyebrow arched in a comical mimicry of her mother Marietta before she dissolved into laughter. "Never fear, I shan't forget." She stuck her hand out towards him, clasping his firmly when he offered it in return. Her expression turned solemn. "Best friends forever."

Nigel grinned. "Best friends forever."

"Now." Adrianna shoved herself to her feet, reaching out a hand to Nigel. "Let's go see what we can do about de-sparklifying you, yeah?"

#

It was promptly first thing in the morning, just past ten on the very last day in July, when Adriana knocked at the door to Longbottom Cottage. The kitchen full of family visiting for Nigel's birthday didn't bother her, she simply asked where Nigel was, and on learning he had made his way into the gardens cheerily excused herself and went to find her friend.

When he saw her approach he could see clearly that she carried two things; a small package under one arm, and an envelope sealed with a glob of wax clutched tightly in one hand. "Present, or letter?" she asked.

Nigel hesitated. Presents were... well... _presents_. And as he'd had to ask Neah's help in finding one for Adriana last March, he wondered what she had come up with in turn for him. But the envelope... he could tell by the way she held it that it was the response from _Witch Today_.

He swallowed hard and said, "You decide."

"Present." Adriana dropped down onto the ground next to him, holding out the brightly wrapped box.

A moment's hesitation and Nigel ripped into the paper, discarding it to one side and revealing a book. He had to turn it over, and laughed to find _Quidditch Down Under_. Adriana leaned into his shoulder and whispered, "Malfoy will _never_ think to learn Quidditch secrets that aren't British, French, or Bulgarian. Memorize _everything_."

Laughing he nudged her shoulder with his. "I will. Thank you." But the letter teased at him, the way she'd set it aside as if it didn't really matter. "Letter?" he nudged her.

"Oh, this?" Adriana held it up between two fingertips, just barely managing to move it out of reach when Nigel grabbed for it. "Merlin, you're fast. No wonder you fall over your own feet; you don't move slowly enough to catch your balance between steps."

"Oh, just give me the letter, already. Have you opened it?"

Adriana shook her head. "No, I waited. This was both of ours, so I thought we should open it together."

She held it between them, and together they slit the wax and opened it.

"Dear Madame Harbithrut," Adriana read, giggling over the nom de plume they had crafted. "We were delighted to receive your letter regarding your proposed cosmetic line and we would like to meet with you or your agent!" She squealed in delight, and Nigel winced at the shrill sound of it, taking the letter to finish reading it.

"It sounds like a lovely idea, and from our review of your abstract, the magical principles are sound. Please contact us to set an appointment and bring samples of your product." He grinned at Adriana who grinned back. "Twenty five points to Ravenclaw for brilliance," he said.

"_Fifty_. We'll need an agent, one who can keep a secret," she said. "My mums are particularly good at secrets, or do you want your mum to know? We can't let them know at _Witch Today_ that we're only just thirteen or they'll never take us seriously."

And just like that, it wasn't just real, it was big. Too big, too much, and Nigel shied away from it. "You go on and take credit for it. Say you were inspired by what I did during Quidditch. I... I don't want to."

"But it's not my idea," Adriana protested. "It's ours."

"I don't care," Nigel insisted. "Just... go on and do it." It would be easier to maintain his balance if folks didn't suddenly start expecting more. Folks expected enough as it was, with excellent marks and doing well at Quidditch (while they hadn't taken the cup, they had made sure Slytherin didn't manage it either, leaving the field open for Gryffindor to slip in with a last minute defeat of Ravenclaw on the Pitch).

"Are you sure?"

He nodded quickly. "I'm quite certain, Adriana. This is all yours. Besides, it makes sense for you to make cosmetics. Think what folks would say if they ever found out I was involved. This isn't the sort of thing for a boy to do. It was bad enough that I sparkled in public."

"You always sparkle, Nigel Longbottom," Adriana said. "Just sometimes folks don't see it. And I promise, if I actually do happen to make any money off of this, I shall spoil you unmercifully. Although I rather suspect it to be a one-season wonder. But won't you feel proud if everyone's sparkling at the Yule Ball next holiday? Just in time for us to attend and see our handiwork."

"I'll be proud," Nigel allowed. "I just don't need to be _seen_."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is based on characters and situations inspired by the game The Cold War. Many thanks are due to players from that game for answering questions and supplying help with their characters as I worked on this piece.
> 
> Please note that while this work is marked explicit, the explicit text only appears in the final chapter, after the characters are of age.
> 
> **Disclaimer:** I do not own, nor gain anything from, the world of Harry Potter. That belongs to JK Rowling. I just like to write in it, and Nigel, Julien, and Adriana are mine all mine and live in my head.

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[character: adriana fawcett-edgecombe](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/character:+adriana+fawcett-edgecombe), [character: julien malfoy](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/character:+julien+malfoy), [character: nigel longbottom](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/character:+nigel+longbottom), [fic](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/fic), [game: the cold war](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/game:+the+cold+war)  
  
---|---  
  
### Chapter 3

**Year Three**

_I saw things I shouldn't have tonight_  
\-- The Academy Is...

Nigel wasn't quite prepared for the Yule Ball.

It was easier, he supposed, than when his parents were young, and they'd only had one Yule Ball in seven years of school. The Yule Ball was now an annual tradition for third year students and older, so there wasn't quite the same pressure to make it one perfect night. But it also came with its own set of pitfalls, most specifically, the idea that one might require a date. With only a few weeks remaining before the event, Nigel still hadn't decided what to do.

Studying, at least, provided a distraction, settled in at a table in the library with several of his Charms classmates. It turned out that Hermione Longbottom's plan to encourage co-operation amongst the Houses was working, as Nigel's Charms study group included two Ravenclaws (himself and Adriana), three Gryffindors (Alicia Weasley, Seamus O'Halloran, and Finn MacMillan), and one Slytherin. They didn't all always work together at every session -- Quidditch practices and other social engagements often interfered -- but more often than not they compared notes and worked through the exercises together.

Nigel turned to a new page in his book, frowning at his notes. He'd thought that having his Mum for a professor might make things simpler, but these certainly weren't things he remembered from about the home. "Have you the notes from yesterday's class?" he asked, nudging Adriana with his knee.

"I do." Julien shoved his way into the seat between Alicia and Seamus, dropping his stack of books on the table as he arrived late. "And more importantly, I've a date for the Ball, which I'd bet you sorry lot haven't managed to accomplish."

"Give over the notes." Nigel reached across the table, tugging the books towards himself and ignoring the question of dates and dancing.

"Yeah, who?" Seamus arched one ginger eyebrow.

"Danae Pucey. She's beautiful, intelligent, and someone neither of my parents could possibly object to as a match." Julien ticked off the advantages on his fingers. He readied his quill, dipping it carefully in the inkpot. "Who're you planning on asking?"

Fair skin had it's disadvantages, Nigel knew, and he felt for poor Seamus who flushed at Julien's question. "Haven't decided yet. Might just go on my own, so I don't have to worry about dancing attendance on one girl all night."

Which sounded like a good idea to Nigel. "We all ought to do that," he suggested. "Just the lot of us. Then, er, well, we don't have to dance necessarily."

"Doesn't that figure that you can't dance, Longbottom. What happens when you try? Or wait, is it that you're afraid we might all be subject to your _sparkling_ personality again?" Julien drawled.

"Oh! That reminds me!" Alicia said excitedly. "My sister sent me that new Faerie Dust when she sent my gown. I've a few colours, if you want to wear some as well, Adriana."

"Of course I do." Adriana beamed. "My mums thought it was pretty impractical, and I'm not so lucky to have an older sister to buy it for me. Thanks, Alicia."

Nigel rubbed at his mouth, hiding the smirk. No one here knew the humour in that, or just how much Faerie Dust Adriana had at home, from their last experiments to develop colours and perfect the formula before they sold it. Such a silly thing, but he was glad no one knew of his involvement in it. He could well imagine the teasing Julien would give him, not to mention everyone else.

"Or perhaps you're worried you might break the girls' toes," Julien mused, ignoring the conversation about cosmetics. "Can't you just imagine, Longbottom here sending half the girls from our year off to the hospital wing for Madam Pomfrey to fix them up?"

"Leave off, Malfoy," Finn snapped. "Just because you've had dance lessons with your Mum and Dad doesn't mean the rest of us are all high society.

Julien arched one eyebrow. "Breeding shows, as my father might say, and yours seems lacking, MacMillan. If you mean to insult me because I know my way about a dance floor, I assure you, it shan't work. Grace on the ground is as important as grace in the air. Dance is an art with one goal."

Finn crossed his arms, eyes shifting to gaze at the ceiling. "Oh? And that is?"

"Girls." Julien leaned forward, intent on Finn. "Give them what they want, and they'll give you what _you_ want."

What he might want was still a hazy subject for Nigel, but just enough to make his skin heat faintly. He was certainly _aware_ of such things, but he tried not to think about it, primarily since every time he did he found himself stammering and confused. It was far simpler to think about everything but, and treat girls like anyone else. And certainly easy enough to do that with Adriana, his best mate and also Quidditch teammate.

"Can't think where you're getting your information, but it'll take more than a dance to get you a kiss from Danae." Alicia balled up a scrap of parchment, tossing it to hit Julien just above the ear. "Going to have to try harder than that."

"Jealous, Weasel?"

Alicia leaned in, one hand resting lightly on Julien's forearm, the warmth of her breath stirring his hair where it brushed past his his collar. "Hardly," she whispered, lips brushing against the fair skin of his cheek. "Weasleys are never afraid to take what they want."

Julien turned towards her, one eyebrow just starting to arch, when she shifted and caught him square on the mouth.

"Er." Nigel stumbled to a stop, not at all sure what to say. Snogging. At the study table. In the library. Finn looked rather bored with the whole display, and Seamus leaned in, intrigued. But it was Adriana's snicker that broke the two apart, Julien's cheeks flushed bright.

Alicia looked innocent. "Worried that you might've missed out on a better date, Malfoy?"

"Ten points from Gryffindor, ten points from Slytherin!"

Julien blinked at the librarian's curt order, rose tinted skin darkening to red. "Not a bit. I wouldn't date a Weasley if you paid me." He shoved his chair back with a loud scrape. "Keep the notes till later, Longbottom. I've better things to do than study with you lot."

"Well that was an interesting reaction," Adriana leaned over to murmur to Nigel. "I think we've just seen Julien's first kiss."

It seemed rather unkind of Alicia, Nigel thought, but then, it was Julien, so he wasn't about to argue against embarrassing the other boy in public.

#

The time until the Ball crawled by, in Nigel's estimation. The closer they got to it, the more the girls giggled and talked about clothes and cosmetics and avoided studying properly. By the time the actual day arrived, Nigel was simply glad that by the following morning, it would be overwith. He dressed carefully in his dress robes (nothing expensive, and certainly not so nice as the ones Julien donned), then caught up with Seamus, Finn, and Ian as they waited for the girls to join them. In all, they made a group of nine, four boys and five girls, walking down to the Ball together and laughing.

They were surrounded by couples sliding by, hand in hand with daydream eyes, lost in a place Nigel just didn't really _understand_. He saw Seph Pucey, from fifth year, going with one of the seventh year girls, who called him properly Joseph and giggled every time he kissed the back of her hand. Then there were Alicia's brothers, the twins in sixth year, who had both asked the Farmington twins from fifth year and it was impossible to tell which couple was which. Nigel saw pranks coming from that, as James and Charlie shared a bright sense of humor reminiscent of earlier Weasley twins, and Laura and Lea nearly matched them laugh for laugh.

And of course, there was Julien, in dress robes that were a grey just this side of black, and Danae in a gown of green and grey silk, looking older than her thirteen years. They waltzed about the room, delicate, graceful, and picture perfect, if that picture were behind cold glass and impossible to touch. Nigel knew he ought to want to be like the other boy, but right then, in the midst of a crowd that included his best mate, he couldn't help but be glad, just a bit, that he was himself.

"Go on then, Nigel, you have to dance with me once," Adriana prodded him. "Show these boys how it's done."

Nigel's cheeks warmed. "Er. I don't think so, Adriana. Julien was right about that; I'd be more likely to break your toe than anything else."

She rolled her eyes, taking his hand and leaning into his shoulder. She was taller than he was, especially in the dainty heels she'd put on with her navy blue gown, so she leaned in to whisper, "Did you see how the room sparkles? You really ought to fess up to your Mum and Dad. It may be a fad, but it's worth a terrible lot. My Mums keep being caught somewhere between proud and horrified by it all."

Nigel shuddered. "I don't need any part of it," he whispered back. "I keep having the oddest urge to laugh when I hear someone raving about how wonderful it is. And the last thing we need is Julien catching wind of it; he'd demand his due for having dumped it all over me last year, else we might never have realized what we'd done."

Adriana snorted, an unladylike sound. "Julien can stuff it. This is ours. And really, you won't dance with me?" Her voice went loud again, and Nigel glanced around to see Seamus staring at them, his expression vaguely hurt.

"Er." Nigel cleared his throat. "Why don't you go ask Seamus? He looks like he might want to dance."

Adriana leaned in to brush a kiss against his cheek. "Alright then, but you'll have to promise me a dance one of these years, yeah?" Turning, she beamed brightly and Seamus flushed pink as she took his hand. As he walked her out to the dance floor, he shot a silent "thank you" over his shoulder, and Nigel waved in a "no problem" sort of response.

Of course, since the others had all managed to find places on the dance floor, that left him with no one to talk to, and instead, he meandered about the edge of the room, fading into the lingering groups that populated the shadows. He paused in his walk when he heard whispers, and started to step back. But... was that Julien? He hesitated, leaning forward again to spot Julien and Danae in a small nearly hidden nook.

Danae stood with her back against the wall, almost invisible save for her gown and that dark upswept hair. A flash of her cheek came visible as Julien leaned in and... oh bloody hell, Nigel really didn't need to watch Julien in another snog session. He started to pull back, but the sharp crack of flesh striking flesh brought him about to look again. Julien pulled away, the bright impression of a hand on one cheek. Nigel couldn't hear Danae's hissed words, but she stalked off in the opposite direction, never noticing his hiding place.

Should he stay where he was or keep walking as if nothing had happened? Uncertain, he wavered, then took a step out, not looking at Julien and continuing on as if he were entirely oblivious.

"Longbottom." Julien cleared his throat, leaning against the wall, arms crossed.

"Er. Yes?" Nigel turned slowly, gaze focused on the wall just above Julien's head so he didn't have the see the brightness against fair skin.

"Seems I've a talent for hacking off Puceys. Care to do me a favor?" Graceful fingers gestured at the mark.

"I'm not your personal healer, Malfoy," Nigel muttered. Still. He took a step forward, then another as the mark drew his gaze. He reached out and gripped Julien's chin, tilting it so he could properly see the bruise. He ignored the way Julien's jaw quivered faintly in his grip, ignored the brightness in the boys' eyes as just anger at Danae. He'd have to be quick, finish the spell before the chaperones noticed the stray flash of unauthorized magic. But then, he was well-used to this particular healing spell, and a quick swish and words later and the red mark was fading.

"Knew I could count on you." Julien murmured as Nigel released him and stepped to put space between them once more. "How handy you happened by just when I needed your help."

Nigel shook his head, shoving the wand back away, and hands into his pockets. "Don't even mention it." And he prayed Julien wouldn't, and wouldn't ask again, although he knew that more than likely, he would. Four and a half years left, then Julien would be out of his hair for good.

Head down, he wasn't watching where he was going as he left the room. He intended to head back to his dormitory, having had quite enough of the social gathering. And when he again stumbled on a quiet nook, and two voices, he tried not to look. But... "Heather! Oh bloody hell, Mum's going to kill you."

His sister flushed brightly. "Oh, no she's not, because you won't be telling her, Nigel Longbottom. I've herbs I could slip into your lunch that'd make you miserable if you decide to squeal on me."

Nigel couldn't see who was behind her, only a flash of dark hair, someone taller than Heather in his dress robes. And truth be told, he didn't want to know. "Fine. You don't tell her I bailed on the Ball early, and I won't tell her you were snogging in the hallway."

Heather sighed with relief. "It's a deal. Go on then."

And Nigel went. As he stalked up the stairs to his dormitory, he didn't want to think about the thankful look in Seamus' eyes as he led Adriana to the dance floor, or the bright hurt in Julien's expression after Danae slapped him. Or worse yet, the disheveled breathless laughter of his sister as he'd walked away again.

He didn't want to think about how he'd done no snogging of his own in hidden places. And didn't want to. But... maybe wanted to, just the same. He decided that the Yule Ball was simply a painful time, in a confusing year, and curled up on his bed, dress robes and all, and hoped for sleep.

#

"I've been thinking about asking Adriana to the tea shop on Valentine's Day," Seamus mused aloud as he flicked a paper quaffle towards the makeshift goal on Nigel's side of the table.

"Oi, what?" Nigel picked up the paper, tossing it back to him. "Like a date?"

Seamus flushed crimson across the back of his neck. "Yeah. Like a date. Go on then, Nigel, I know the two of you are close and all. Does she ever talk about me?"

Nigel scrolled back through his conversations with Adriana. Quidditch. Classes. Faerie Dust. Her Mum's music. Her other Mum's career. More Quidditch. More classes. "Er. No. Not really."

Seamus groaned, kicking the chair backwards. "Bloody hell, Nigel. Put in a good word for me, yeah? It's only a week till Hogsmeade and I swear the girl doesn't even know I'm alive."

"Would it help if she had an idea you fancied her?" Nigel suggested. "Because right now, I don't think she has a clue. We're all study mates and all, but she never talks about fancying boys."

"Maybe she just doesn't talk to you about it," Seamus said. "Maybe she saves up all the girly stuff for Alicia."

Nigel flushed, remembering a conversation or two that he'd rather wished Adriana had had with anyone _but_ him, from the too personal details she told him about her own life, to the pointed questions she'd asked about similar events in a boys' life. "Er. No. She really doesn't seem to mind talking to me about the girly things."

"Really?" Seamus let the legs of his chair fall with a thump, looking over at Nigel with interest. "That might be interesting to hear about. Never can tell what's going on in their heads."

This wasn't about their _heads_, Nigel knew, and his flush intensified. "Er. No. I'm not going to discuss those things with you. There are books for that sort of thing, if you really need to know it." And considering he wished some days that he could un-know some of it, he couldn't think why Seamus would want the details in the first place.

Seamus just shrugged and let it go, as easy-going as he ever was. "So who do you fancy, Nigel? Must be someone you've got your eye on."

Nigel had to think about that, his brow furrowed. "Not really, no. I mean, we're only thirteen. I don't have to fancy anyone yet, do I? We've got years and years before we have to deal with all that." Like snogging in the hallways. And dancing at the Ball.

"Well, yeah, but half of us are fourteen already. And doesn't it just get you thinking? I mean, I watch Adriana come into the room and suddenly I'm warm all over, and all I can think about is whether she'd like a bit of a snog."

This was one of _those_ conversations. Like the ones with Adriana. Those sorts of conversations made Nigel supremely uncomfortable, and he shifted in his seat. "I suppose so," he said, not so much because he'd been imagining snogging anyone, but rather because it was the reaction Seamus seemed to think he ought to have.

"I went to Italy this summer when my Da was on tour with his team. We were there for a week or so, while Da played some exhibition matches. Happened to run into the Zabinis."

"Oh?" Nigel glanced at Seamus, who was looking comfortable again, the chair leaned back, feet kicked up on the table. And the more comfortable Seamus looked, the less so Nigel felt. "That must've been..." he searched for something polite to say about Chase, and after two and a half years as his roommate, he couldn't find anything, "...er, interesting."

"Actually, was rather interesting. Did you know he has a sister?"

Nigel frowned. "I think I've heard him mention her once or twice. She's older than him, right? And she's gone to Beauxbatons."

"Exactly." Seamus stretched out, arms behind his head, staring back at the ceiling. "She's gorgeous, Nigel. First girl I ever looked at and realized that she was a girl and that I rather wanted to be the boy she was staring back at. She's got those exotic eyes their Da has, wide and dark and when she looks at a bloke it's like she's thinking about snogging all the time."

"I thought you had a fancy for Adriana," Nigel protested. "Not Chase's sister."

Seamus snorted. "Nothing says a bloke can't fancy more than one girl at a time, Nigel. Just can't snog more than one at a time, or at least, can't get caught at it, else you'll get slapped."

"Snogging one can you get slapped, if it's Danae." The words slipped out while Nigel was still wrestling with the idea of fancying more than one girl at a time. Of fancying any of them.

Another snort of laughter from Seamus. "Oh, yeah? Priceless. So Julien got himself slapped, did he?"

It was one of those moments where Nigel knew he could do the right thing and take the comment back. But instead he stayed silent, not denying a thing, and let it go, knowing full well the other boys in their year would have heard by dinnertime's end. He had more complicated things to chew on, to taste, to worry about. Julien could fend for himself.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is based on characters and situations inspired by the game The Cold War. Many thanks are due to players from that game for answering questions and supplying help with their characters as I worked on this piece.
> 
> Please note that while this work is marked explicit, the explicit text only appears in the final chapter, after the characters are of age.
> 
> **Disclaimer:** I do not own, nor gain anything from, the world of Harry Potter. That belongs to JK Rowling. I just like to write in it, and Nigel, Julien, and Adriana are mine all mine and live in my head.

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[character: adriana fawcett-edgecombe](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/character:+adriana+fawcett-edgecombe), [character: julien malfoy](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/character:+julien+malfoy), [character: nigel longbottom](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/character:+nigel+longbottom), [fic](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/fic), [game: the cold war](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/game:+the+cold+war)  
  
---|---  
  
### Chapter 4

**Year Four**

_If this is a test,  
I'm wasting my breath_  
\-- The Academy Is...

Chapter 4 - Big Big Mess

 

"Would you care to explain exactly how it came to be that Mister MacMillan is a Purple-Spotted Loon?" Headmistress McGonagall stood perfectly straight, her arms crossed, the loon bleating at her feet.

Julien snickered, stopping immediately when she pinned him with her gaze. "Well, the assignment was to transfigure the apple," he gestured at the red fruit still set upon the table in front of himself and Nigel. "Apparently Longbottom _missed_," he drawled, lips pressed together to contain another snicker.

"Mister Longbottom? Would you care to elucidate?"

"Er, well, it was rather the wrong spell, and cast in rather the wrong direction entirely," he admitted. "I'd expected a common sparrow. The sort which are all over the gardens back home."

"And the chair?"

Both boys turned in place to look over at Finn's chair, which now sported purple polka dots to match the loon, cast in frosting on a large cake which was melting somewhat in the heat of the room. "Er." Nigel had to think back. "That one you'll have to ask Malfoy," he offered. "Although before you ask, the table was an honest mistake." He gestured at the pile of feathers upon the floor just ahead of the cake. "I think they're sparrow feathers, at least."

Neither boy looked at the walls (sporting further spots, in shades of brown, blue, and purple) or the desks (at least one more had dissolved to feathers), or the floor (oddly patterned in yellows and greens that hadn't been there before). Both regarded the headmistress as she regarded them back.

"This is not your first offense, boys."

Neither could argue with that. In fact, no one in their year could argue with that. Every professor had, at some point, handed down extra assignments, punishments, and cleanup over their first three and a half years at Hogwarts. Nigel glanced at Julien, who maintained his usual calm mask. This was, however, their worst transgression. And the worst part was, Nigel couldn't quite remember how the argument had begun.

Headmistress McGonagall turned away long enough to Untransfigure Finn, who looked bewildered to find himself a boy once more. She urged him to go along now, Nigel's apologies swallowed as Finn left without looking at them again. Two tables returned to four legs and a surface, and the chair a chair once more, and finally the walls and floor cleansed of their spots. And still, that apple stared at him, stubbornly an apple, until Nigel's fingers itched to withdraw his wand and prove that he _could_ properly cast the spell.

"Mister Longbottom. Mister Malfoy."

Her tone brooked no argument, and both boys met her gaze.

"I expect that this will be the last time I will have to address you thus," she said quietly. "It does not reflect well upon you that you find yourselves in constant discipline and frankly, I expect better. Now, I have it on reliable authority that the two of you share space within the same study group, so it appears that you are able to work together in some capacity. Therefore, in order to reinforce this partnership behaviour, you two shall have an independent study course to finish out the year, alongside your regular coursework. You will report to me on Monday noon for your assignment, and it shall be due in three months, just before exams in June. Are we understood?"

Nigel nodded, and after a moment, Julien did as well. Headmistress McGonagall kept them pinned with that _look_ for a moment longer, then let them be as she left the room.

"See what you did?" Julien hissed. "You're probably thrilled for the extra work, but frankly, Longbottom, I haven't time for this. We've practice tonight and a match against Gryffindor this weekend."

"It wouldn't have happened if you weren't such an arse, Malfoy," Nigel growled back. "Go on, fly, get your fun time in because come Monday we're going to be busy, because don't think I'll be doing the work for you here. And she'd know if I did, anyway."

Julien sniffed, an annoyed, haughty sound, then shouldered his bag of books and stalked out. Left alone, Nigel finally withdrew his wand and glared at the apple. Rather a stupid thing, sitting there, taunting him. With a swish and a flick, and the proper spell... a sparrow chirped. He huffed a sigh and returned it to apple form, then walked out, leaving it behind him.

#

After two weeks, Nigel was certain this assignment was not fourth year material. In fact, he rather suspected it wasn't fifth or sixth year material either. Quite possibly seventh, if not beyond. But whether it was standard material for their education or not, it was their assignment from the Headmistress herself, and if he and Julien did not complete it by exams, they risked poor marks.

And Nigel Longbottom loathed poor marks.

After waiting over half an hour for Julien to show in the library for a planned work session, he slammed the books closed with a loud thunk, earning him a hush from the librarian. After packing his things, he made his way to where Adriana and Alica studied, heads bent close together. "Either of you seen Julien today?" he asked.

Adriana shook her head, but Alicia looked thoughtful. "Saw him carrying his broom through the common room after lunch; might be he's out on the pitch. Why, were you supposed to be working together?" Her expression held only sympathy; everyone had heard about the independent study they'd been assigned.

"It's the third session he's skived off from," Nigel muttered. "And I'm not doing a bit more work until he puts some in of his own. I can deal with failing if he goes down as well."

Adriana reached up, lightly rubbing his arm. "He'll come round, Nigel. He's far too full of himself to let his Dad think of him as a failure."

Nigel wasn't so sure of that, considering Julien had shown little interest in completing this assignment so far. Two weeks down, they only had another 10 before it was due, and Nigel was certain they had enough work to do to fill several months of time. "Think I might head over and see if I can drag him back in and get an hour's work done before dinner." He smiled, rather more like a grimace, when Adriana squeezed his hand, then said a polite goodbye and headed out.

As it turned out, he didn't need to slog all the way to the pitch; just as he was about to head out, he saw Julien and Seph coming back in, the older boy's arm around the younger boy's shoulders, and both of them wind-flushed and laughing. Nigel crossed his arms and stood in the middle of the corridor, so the boys slowed as they approached.

"Flying?" Nigel asked, tone sharp. "You were _flying?_ I've told you before, Malfoy, that this assignment won't get done unless you help, and right about now, I could give a rat's arse if we get a T on it."

Seph laughed out loud. "What are you Longbottom, his wife? Telling him he can't go out for a pint with the blokes and has to stay home and make sure the dishes are done? Merlin's sake," he choked on the laugh as Julien's sharp elbow caught him in the ribs, but it didn't stop the grin. "It was just a bit of flying practice and here he is, delivered safe and sound back to your side." He reached out to ruffle Nigel's hair, adding, "make the best of it, Longbottom," before he walked away.

Julien's lips were pursed, his former good mood displaced by the sour expression. "What's gotten up your arse, Longbottom? We've plenty of time to finish the assignment; it's only April."

"Have you even _looked_ at it, yet?" Nigel hissed.

"I read it over." Julien shrugged. "Didn't look entirely difficult. We've Transfigured living things to inanimate before, and the other way round, so what could be so difficult about Transfiguring a fleet of Bombay Bloated Bats into a box of quills?"

Nigel gritted his teeth together. "Bombay Bloated Bats naturally resist most magics. The assignment is to determine a way to apply such magics to them anyway, despite that disadvantage. And I've not found a simple solution, yet."

Julien's smirk faded. "I see."

"Do you?" Nigel asked. "Do you see just how much trouble you've gotten us into with your constant taunting and utter... utter... _pratness!_? This isn't something we can look up in a book, Malfoy. We've got to work together to develop a path to remove that magical resistance long enough to apply a proper spell and ensure that it lasts and remains transfigured for a minimum of fifteen minutes."

"I _understand_, Longbottom," Julien snapped, stalking past the other boy. "But we're unlikely to accomplish anything for it standing here in the corridor. Have you the books in our room, or are they in the library?"

"Room." Nigel hurried to keep up with him, his shorter stride keeping him at a near jog. "I don't think I've everything we'll need yet, but I found an interesting book on Potions and magical resistance which I thought might be a good start. Your Arithmancy marks are up to snuff, yes?"

Julien gave him a dark glare. "You'll find no issue with my Arithmancy, Longbottom. Nor with my Potions work, unlike some students I could mention."

"I don't think we'll lose points if our quills sparkle," Nigel said dryly, refusing to let that old hurt still sting. "I take it you're getting on well enough with Pucey now, rather than fighting?" He dug a small wound of his own in Julien's hide.

Julien's cheeks flushed. "We're getting on fine. He's left off needling me about my father, and he's just his more usual self. Arrogant, self-confident. Bloody good flyer, though. Doesn't look a bit like his mum, save those freckles, but he _flies_ like a Weasley."

"Better flying than fighting," Nigel muttered, "Keeps me from having to play personal healer and patch you up constantly. Just fly on your own time and stop missing studying."

"Oh, I've plenty of bruises if you feel the need nursemaid me, Longbottom." Julien rubbed at his hip with a rueful expression. "Bludger caught me. Wouldn't mind a bit of your magic," he grinned, eyes more wicked than humoured.

Nigel followed where he was rubbing. "Thanks, no, I can do without seeing your sorry arse. Bad enough seeing it about the room." He rolled his eyes, stopping to push open the door to their room. "Go on in, and I'll dig out the books and we can get to work."

"Who knew you'd turn out to be such a slavedriver."

"Some of us care about our marks, Malfoy," Nigel muttered. He'd fail if he had to, to teach Malfoy a lesson, but he'd far rather drag Malfoy into the work. He apparently just had to compete with the pitch and Seph Pucey, and he knew that this assignment was far from up for the competition.

#

Nigel sat on the floor of his room, staring at the bulbous bat in the cage in front of him, while unseeing eyes didn't stare back. After a long moment of contemplation, he tilted forward, head resting against the wire frame as he groaned.

"You know I'd help you if I could," Adriana said, fingers digging into the muscles at the base of his neck. "But other than this," her fingers flexed against his skin, "I can't. McGonagall would have my hide if she knew I'd offered the simplest bit of advice."

"Do you have an idea?" Nigel muttered.

"Not really," Adriana admitted. "But I wouldn't mind attacking the puzzle. It has me horribly curious."

"What I need," Nigel sighed, "is my study partner. Who claims his mother forwarded him the ingredients we needed from Nice, but I haven't seen the package, nor Malfoy, since that lunch."

"No?" Adriana tugged Nigel backwards so his head rested against her knees where they dangled off the edge of his bed. Deft fingers lightly rubbed his temple. "What's he been up to that's more important than this project?"

"Flying." As if it made sense, and with a wry smile, he could almost admit it did. "He's been out on the pitch any time it's free, with Seph Pucey."

Adriana's fingers stilled, her head cocked. "With Seph? Are they up to something?"

Nigel twisted to look at her. "What d'you mean? You know Seph better than I do."

"Well, yes, he's an old and dear friend, just in different ways than you are," she said. "Mum adores his father, and Mum grew up with his mum. I'm named after his father, you know." Adriana never differentiated between her mums, just assuming people would know which one she meant through context. Most of the time Nigel could get the gist of it; the rest of the time he decided it wasn't important which was which.

"I just... seems odd, Seph hanging out with a fourth year student, when he's sixth and all," Adriana continued. "Like it's something that bears looking into."

Nigel groaned. "Tell me you don't expect me to be Malfoy's caretaker here. I've enough with trying to get this done."

"Of course not. Just means there is a way I can help you out after all." Adriana leaned forward to kiss Nigel's cheek, her hair tickling his skin as she moved. "I promise to make certain he makes time for his studies again. Never fear, best mate, just consider it done."

#

Whatever she said, it worked, and Julien was attentive to the project. The encouragement of their roommates, who had no desire to continue to have the odd bat making bizarre noises in the middle of the night, may have helped as well.

"It quivered!" Julien crowed, wand out and pointed at the bat. "It quivered there, just around the edges. The potion might be working."

"We've fed it near a gallon of the stuff," Nigel groaned. "And it was dear to make and we've not got more. I don't think that's going to be the answer. McGonagall can't possibly have expected us to go broke."

"I've money, that's not an issue, Longbottom," Julien said dryly. "But it also took the last three weeks to brew correctly, and we've only a few days left."

"And we're not done." Nigel fell back to lie down on the floor, arms spread-eagled. "I don't think we're getting a T, but I can't think we're going to make it to an A, either." He rubbed at the bridge of his nose, groaning again. "I've never _not_ passed a class before, Malfoy."

A derisive snort. "There's a first time for everything, Longbottom. Although do try not to give your mother a coronary; the school needs her." A moment's pause at that. "She'd likely know the answer, you know."

"And not tell us, and besides, this is our assignment, and I can't stand not figuring it out," Nigel muttered. "We've missed something, I know we have. How much longer will that potion be effective?"

"About..." Julien glanced at the bat, which suddenly rolled over to its feet, wings fluttering, annoyed at the temporary paralysis that had held it. "It's done."

"Bugger."

Julien snickered. "Language, Longbottom."

Nigel gave him a dark look and repeated, for good measure. "_Bugger_."

Julien's expression went cold. "Don't make me think you're starting in on derisive comments regarding my father's behaviour."

Nigel pinched the bridge of his nose, wincing. "Merlin's sake, Malfoy, are you paranoid? I'm cursing, not nattering on about your father." He pushed himself back to sitting, and stared at the bat. Finally he leaned to one side, one hand against the floor as he picked through their notes with his other. "Alright, so we know that if we administer these three charms, in order, we can manage to use a No-Stink charm on the beast, but it only lasts a few minutes. And if we add this to modify that potion such," he underlined the words with his finger, "it allows it to unbloat, which does something, but doesn't turn it into a quill."

"And we know that any spells cast after dark last no time at all, like the silence." They had tried, for peace in the room, to place a silence barrier about the bat's cage, but after dark it was impossible to have it last more than the seconds it took to cast. "Which is why we're here instead of at lunch, as we're furthest from dark right now."

Nigel flipped to his Astronomy charts, and checked the time. "Yes, in about five minutes is the optimal time. We think." He looked up as Julien leaned in as well, a long fall of pale hair obscuring the other boy's face. "You ought to pull that back," he remarked. "It's going to get into everything. Why keep it so long, anyway?"

Julien sat back, yanking the pale strands into a tail and securing it with a band. "I rather like it."

"It's almost as long as Adriana's."

"Longer. She cut it recently."

It almost sounded as if he were paying attention to that. Nigel frowned, then shook his head. "Stop competing with the girls over hair, Malfoy. You'll lose, and it's starting to sound like you're preening." Although perhaps he was. Always perfectly groomed, Malfoy had reached new heights of obsession with his appearance in the past year. "And truly, I doubt Adriana is impressed that your hair is longer than hers."

Julien snorted. "It's not her I'm trying to impress."

Nigel blinked. "Oh?" Spells and looming deadline momentarily forgotten, he asked, "Who is it?"

Julien's fair skin flushed. "No one, Longbottom. You're right, the girls aren't likely to be impressed. We've three minutes to figure this out. Keep nattering and we'll miss the mark entirely and have to do it all again tomorrow."

"Right." Nigel laid out the pages, calculating the changes they'd made, shuffling things in his mind, rearranging. He reached out, absently summoning his Charms book, paging through until the very end. "Oh. Oh!" He reached out again, snatching a hair from Julien's head.

"Oi! What was that about?" Julien scowled.

"Hush, and just get ready." Nigel set the hair on the floor of the cage, near the bat. "Alright, burn the hair."

Julien rolled his eyes, but did as requested, setting the near-invisible hair alight. Both boys wrinkled their noses at the stench, but the bat sniffed forward, flattening out over the space, surrounding himself in the thin smoke. Nigel grinned. "Right, charms. Just as we've practiced."

They cast in quick succession, and at the end, the Bombay Bloated Bat lay upon the floor of the cage, looking for all the world like a giant stuffed toy. "That's different, Longbottom," Julien murmured.

"Go on." Nigel crouched next to him, shoulder to shoulder. Leaning a little, he nudged him. "Try it."

Wand out, Julien carefully cast the spell, wand dropping to the floor as a quill appeared on the bottom of the cage. "You did it." He laughed out loud. "Longbottom, you sorry excuse for a mad wizard, you _did it!_"

Julien's clap against his back nearly knocked him over, and he leaned on Julien to catch his balance, sending both boys tumbling to the floor. They lay there, laughing and cheering, until a soft pop and a distinct _odor_ attracted their attention; the bat was batlike and bloated once more.

"How long?" Julien asked.

Nigel looked at his watch. "Five minutes, but we can get it to fifteen. That was just a quick test, a proof of concept."

"What the bloody hell did you do?" Julien sat up and started gathering the papers together, ready to make notes.

"Well, we had three of the four human elements bound for it. Er, not bound exactly, but distracted? We'd affected each of them in such a way that the bat wasn't consciously blocking what we wished to do. Anyway, we had body and soul and mind. We were missing heart." Nigel gestured at Julien's head. "A smudge of smoke from blood of Veela and there you go, heart."

Julien's expression soured. "Lovely. So we'll be burning more of me soon, I assume?"

Nigel crouched next to him and tugged the tie from about Julien's tail, letting his hair fall free, past his shoulders once more. He combed his fingers from the top of Julien's head down the length of his hair as the other boy went perfectly still beneath his hands. When Nigel stopped and showed his hand, he had a small collection of fair strands. "That ought to be enough to make a proper mixture from. If we add something to extend the time for it burning, we'll have to experiment to see how much we'll need. And perhaps we oughtn't do so where others might be. No telling what affect it might have on people. Temporary, of course," he assured Julien. "But this is it. We're going to be done on time."

Julien sat there, grey eyes wide, a faint stain of pink on his cheeks as he stared at Nigel. Several heartbeats later he finally spoke, tone dry and flat. "Congratulations, Longbottom, you're officially brilliant. Take what you need and finish up the testing, and I'll get what we've already done written up so we can hand it in."

"You're not entirely unbrilliant yourself, Malfoy," Nigel admitted. He placed the soft strands carefully into a tin to keep them safe. "And it did go better when we worked together. Even if there was a bit of hair pulling."

Julien snorted. "Don't expect this to be the beginning of a beautiful friendship, Longbottom."

"Merlin, no, I'd never think that."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is based on characters and situations inspired by the game The Cold War. Many thanks are due to players from that game for answering questions and supplying help with their characters as I worked on this piece.
> 
> Please note that while this work is marked explicit, the explicit text only appears in the final chapter, after the characters are of age.
> 
> **Disclaimer:** I do not own, nor gain anything from, the world of Harry Potter. That belongs to JK Rowling. I just like to write in it, and Nigel, Julien, and Adriana are mine all mine and live in my head.

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[character: adriana fawcett-edgecombe](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/character:+adriana+fawcett-edgecombe), [character: julien malfoy](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/character:+julien+malfoy), [character: nigel longbottom](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/character:+nigel+longbottom), [fic](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/fic), [game: the cold war](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/game:+the+cold+war)  
  
---|---  
  
### Chapter 5

**Year Five**

_One song, about a girl  
Can't breathe when I'm around her  
I wait here everyday  
In case she'll scratch the surface  
She'll never notice_  
\-- The Academy Is...

Another year, another Yule Ball gone by. Once again, Nigel had attended alone, and once again, he'd managed to avoid dancing. And again, as he'd set for tradition, he slipped out before the end of the evening, intending to walk a bit before finding his way back to his room. It was a good intention, and one he found peace in, at least until he was interrupted.

"Pardon?" The girl who addressed him was slight, shorter than he and of slender build, pale hair and eyes reminding him eerily of Julien Malfoy. She smiled sweetly when he met her gaze. "Oui. Yes. I have asked for your attention."

"Er, yes, then, you have it." She was one of the Beauxbatons students, he decided, as was obvious from the accent. There were a handful at the school over Yule, the Academic competition having been replaced by the TriWizard Tournament this year. He offered an uncertain smile, not remembering which girl this was, and rather hoping she wasn't their champion or else he'd be rather embarrassed by forgetting her name.

"My name, it is Amélie." It was said as if he ought to recognize it, her head cocked, demeanor waiting.

Nigel shook his head. "I'm sorry, if we've met earlier, I don't remember you."

She gave a little moue of disappointment. "You are Nigel Longbottom, oui?" When he nodded, she smiled again. "You are ze brother of Rose Longbottom. I am ze sister of Margaux. They compete against each other in ze tournament."

"Ah, yes, they do." Nigel scrubbed a hand through his hair, finally placing this petite girl. "Er. So you must be her younger sister?" He wasn't terribly comfortable with small talk, but he'd try.

"Oui. I am fifteen in three days, so this, it is like a birthday party for me. Which is nice, as I shall spend my birthday here rather than at home."

"It's too bad it was Hogwarts turn to host, then," Nigel said, aiming for polite. "I believe Beauxbatons will be hosting in four years, but er, that's a bit late for you, isn't it?"

Her laugh was soft and musical, sweet, like bells ringing around the edges. "Oui. I shall have finished with the schooling by then. You must be very proud of your sister."

"Well. Yes. Mum and Dad are pretty much full to bursting about it. Shannon was the Hogwarts champion four years ago, when it all went to Durmstrang my first year here. You, er, must be terribly proud of Margeaux?" This didn't seem to be going to terribly badly, as small talk went. He rather wanted to ask her to get to the point, but thought that might be rude. And it was never right to be rude, especially to girls and guests.

"Oui, of course I am, although I am also terribly jealous," Amélie admitted. "Are you not? I would like to be the one competing and there will not be a competition when I am old enough. It makes me sad."

"Actually, I'm quite fine not competing," Nigel said. "I've got Quidditch, and that's plenty of exposure for me. Although with the tournament here, we're not competing for a House Cup this year in Quidditch. We only compete the years there's no tournament, or well, when the tournament is at one of the other schools. Games this year are just for practice." Which in an odd way was driving him mad. For someone who had never wanted to play in the first place, he'd fallen into it like he'd been born to the sport, and he rather missed the competition.

Amélie cocked her head, looking up at him as she reached out to take his hands. He tried not to pull away, confused by the sudden burst of warmth spreading through him, and the way his thoughts jumbled upon one another. "You are a strange boy, Nigel Longbottom. Do you dance?"

Why was she calling him strange? "Ah. No, no, not really, not unless you don't like your shoes. Or your toes. I er, I'm a bit of a clumsy... well, I tend to stumble some. It's never pretty." He tried desperately not to sweat as she continued to stare at him, that half-smile lingering on her lips in a way that made him want to touch the other side and tilt it up as well, or smooth them out, or just... touch them. His free hand half raised before he caught himself and stopped, although that somehow made her smile grow.

"Come dance," she said again, entreaty or order, not request.

And yet, his heels were rooted to the floor, discomfort making him more likely to flee than follow her. "Er..."

"Is he bothering you?"

Not Julien's lazy clipped drawl, thankfully, but Seph's sharp tone. The older boy paused and bowed. "Excuse me for interrupting, but it seems as if you've struck Longbottom here speechless. Let me assure you, it isn't far from his natural state, my lovely lady."

"Ah. Amélie, this is, er," he remembered just in time to use proper names, "Joseph Pucey."

"Call me Seph, Amélie. And please, call me your dance partner as well." Seph crooked one arm, a wicked glint in his eyes as he waited.

"Go on," Nigel tugged his hand free, taking a step back as he did so. "You'll have a better time with him than with me." Not that he gave her a chance to argue the point, stepping back again as soon as Seph captured her hand. "I hope your sister does well in the tournament," he added, almost as an afterthought. "Although she hasn't a hope of beating Rose."

He heard a soft sputter that faded quickly into a high pitched giggling laugh as he walked away

#

It occurred to him, as he heard a soft sniffle, that he ought to've learned not to walk about during the Ball by now. If finding Heather snogging in an alcove hadn't been scarring for life, then likely finding someone in tears might just do it. Still, he couldn't _not_ stop, and so he moved slowly so that whoever it was could find composure. "Adriana?"

"Hm? Oh, hullo, Nigel." She rubbed at her eye with the heel of one hand. "Why aren't you in dancing?"

"I don't dance," he reminded her, peering through the dim light to try to surreptitiously see if she were injured. "Are you alright, Adriana? I thought I heard..." He couldn't just _say_ baldly that he'd heard his ever-strong best mate crying.

She laughed softly. "I'm fine, Nigel, really and truly, I'm fine. Just turned out that Seph's an arse."

"I already knew that," Nigel said, then stopped, making an apologetic face. "And he's your date tonight, and I've just sent him off to dance with one of the girls from Beauxbatons. I'm sorry."

Adriana shook her head. "No, it's alright, we're just friends, and I was done with being in a party mood." She held out one hand, fingers curled, palm up. "Want to walk with me for a bit?"

Nigel slipped his hand in hers, comfortable as they started walking shoulder to shoulder. He couldn't think of anyone he was _more_ comfortable with than Adriana. Although something was off tonight, some... scent? He glanced over, catching a glance at her profile. The shape of her cheekbones, the curve of her face with her hair swept back, the shell of her ear, accented by tiny shimmering droplet earrings.

Adriana was beautiful. And he'd never really noticed before tonight.

"Ah. Er." He stumbled in sudden confusion. "As long as we don't bump into anyone unexpectedly snogging." He'd told her about Heather two years back.

She squeezed his hand, nudging his shoulder with her own. "I think we can manage to avoid that."

Nigel swallowed hard. "Are you wearing cologne?"

"Does it tickle your nose? I'm so sorry, Rose loaned it to me. Something Heather made, out of the stuff in your dad's gardens. I rather thought it smelled sweet, maybe a bit too much..."

"Hush, Adriana, it's fine." Nigel squeezed her hand hard until she lapsed into silence. "Just different is all. It smells rather nice. Like you've been lying about in the gardens in the sun or some such."

"Well isn't that poetic." Adriana grinned. "Captured sunlight in her hair or something like that. Next thing you know you'll be composing sonnets and all the boys'll be asking you to write love poetry to their girls."

"Merlin, I hope not." Nigel shook his head. "That's a reputation I'd rather not get." Talking was easy, he realized, and teasing was even better. As long as he didn't look at her, he didn't get that odd tight sensation at his center, didn't get all stumbling and stuttering when he tried to speak. This was _Adriana_.

"So tell me about this French girl?" She nudged his hip. "What happened, Nigel?"

"Ah, well, this girl chatted me up a bit," Nigel admitted. "Amélie, little sister to Margeaux, the girl who's the champion for Beauxbatons? Pretty little thing, I guess." Pale, compared to Adriana. The difference between fog and a full-blown rain cloud, and he'd rather have the rain cloud. Er. So to speak. "Seph insulted me and took her off, but that was just fine with me."

"Seph's an arse."

Nigel laughed. "You said that."

Adriana rolled her eyes and said bluntly, "And I'm sure it'll bear saying again many times over the years. Seph Pucey's an arse!!"

Still laughing, Nigel slung an arm around her shoulders, drawing her in close so his head could tilt against hers, and they walked companionably on.

#

Nigel rather thought he'd preferred life before he'd fancied someone. It was simpler then, after all. He'd studied, played Quidditch, gone to classes and meals. Now he sat next to his best mate in those same classes, study groups and meals, and flew with her on the pitch, and at night when he lay in bed trying to sleep, he remembered just how _good_ she'd smelled at the Yule Ball. And his body would react, and there he would be, stuck in a room with nothing but curtains separating himself from the other boys and unable to do a thing about it.

And he couldn't _tell_ her, either. It was Adriana, after all, and he didn't want to think how awkward it would make their friendship if she weren't interested. Far, far simpler to just stay silent and pretend none of it existed. Or try, anyway.

It had been three months of hell, as far as he was concerned.

He slumped against the table in the common room, watching where Adriana and Alicia were on the couch, listening to a story Rose told of her research into the next tournament task, while he and Julien slaved away at Transfiguration exercises. He heard the scratch of Julien's quill, but his own mind was far from figuring out how to turn a maggot into a butterfly and back again. "She's a pretty girl," he said wistfully, not really intending to speak aloud.

"She's bent as a corkscrew." Julien set the quill down and tipped his chair back, propping his feet on the desk before him, arms behind his head.

Nigel gave him a startled look. "What makes you say that? Heather once told me she caught her and Seamus snogging in the greenhouse."

Julien rolled his eyes, the pale grey clearly stating "as if". "Haven't you seen her mothers? The apple rarely falls far from the tree, and that one? Is destined for lesbian love. Go on, look at that wistful look she gives your sister. Can't you just read the crush in those fancying eyes?"

"It's not like that," Nigel defended Rose, quite certain such thoughts had never entered his sister's mind. Not that any of them thought it was _wrong_. After all, years of seeing Julien's father about had stripped any possibility of bigotry from their minds. But then a thought occurred to him regarding _other_ apples and _other_ trees. "Are you trying to tell me something?"

For a moment, he'd caught Julien off-guard. Grey eyes widened, staring at him, the chair thumping to the ground as his hands slapped the table. Nigel though that Julien would run, but he stopped himself, back straightening and full lips pressing together. "I am not like my father," he said coldly. And then he did stand, and calmly walked over to join Adriana and Alicia, lazily collapsing onto the sofa between the two girls, an arm about each one's shoulders.

Which proved nothing, Nigel knew.

#

Studies for OWLS consumed his time in the spring. He had a full slate of thirteen classes, although he didn't expect to achieve his OWL in all of them. And he rather thought that Ancient Runes could be let go, for the time being, and as much as he enjoyed Astronomy, he didn't need to be able to take NEWT level classes for it. But Arithmancy, Charms, DADA, Potions, Herbology and Transfiguration... those were all critical, and he didn't need to just pass, he needed to excel. Not to mention that he'd never hear the end if he arsed up either History of Magic or Muggle Studies.

Flying, at least, was simple enough. He just _did_ it, often practicing with his team so they didn't lose their technique during the year off from Quidditch, or occasionally flying competitively against Julien (he didn't need to talk to the other boy, just get the Snitch faster, and he invariably flew his best against him). Flying was the one thing that gave him a chance to relax.

At least he didn't have NEWTS. Or the tournament. He rather thought Rose must be going mad, trying to find a way to handle her studying and readying for the final task of the tournament, which was due to come not long after exams.

After exams, at least, so that families could attend.

But that meant they all had to survive this first.

He developed a habit of not quite sleeping... catching cat naps in the library in the middle of study group, or sometimes in Binn's class (as long as he did the reading another time, that worked out rather well). And a few hours every night, although he wondered what made Ian so confident that he was the one boy in their dormitory room that was sleeping regular hours every night. Even Julien was putting in long hours as slave to the books, scribbling page after page of notes on parchment, trying to commit every fact from the last five years to memory.

Nigel rather wondered if it were too much, and if one of these days, someone's head might explode. And that would be rather messy, he though, as he sat down for his Charms exam, the first of the lot.

Charms. He began with Charms and ended with Herbology, and he rather thought that fitting, his exams having the bookends of his parents' lives.

He just hoped it helped.

He picked up his quill and flashed a brief grin across the room at Adriana, who looked as shaken as he did. Then the signal came, and everything else fled his mind save the exam as he began to write.

#

While Quidditch had yet to entirely erase his discomfort with heights, it had certainly opened new places he could convince himself to go, the trellis up the outside of the Edgecombe-Fawcett home being one of those. He had climbed it for the first time with some trepidation, that summer after their second year, but three years later he went up quickly, hardly noticing the climb. He went over the sill of the window and dropped to the floor of Adriana's room. "Hullo. Did you get it?"

Adriana waved the thick envelope. "Right here. Have you opened yours yet?"

Nigel shook his head. "Came straight over. Well, read the letter I got from Seamus, first, then..."

Adriana cut him off with a quick fluttering slice of her hand. "That can wait, Nigel. C'mon over here and sit." She sank down to sit on the floor, leaning back against her bed, patting the floor next to her. Nigel folded himself up to sit there as well, so they leaned shoulder to shoulder, legs bent identically, twin envelopes held before them.

"Ready?" Nigel hesitated until Adriana ripped hers open, and he opened his rapidly. He scanned over it... one P in Divination, but that was alright, he didn't exactly _need_ to do well, and it was just bunk anyway. But the central five, the ones he absolutely _had_ to have NEWT classes in -- Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Potions, Transfiguration -- four Os and an E in Herbology. His eyes closed as he breathed a sigh of relief, not even caring about the rest of his marks.

"Nigel Longbottom, do you have seven Os? Oh, I hate you, I've only got the four." Adriana sighed. "Apparently I just couldn't manage the one in Potions; I knew that Cure for Hiccups wasn't supposed to be _quite_ that shade of blue. I'm sure yours was a perfect periwinkle. Are you going to take classes for all your possible NEWTs?"

All of them? Nigel looked more carefully at his marks and realized that out of all his classes, he had 7 Os, 3Es, 2 As, and the P. "Er. No, I think if I did, I'd be rather overrun with work and not likely to get the marks I need to go into Healing. I'll take the five I need, plus Arithmancy and perhaps Astronomy for a bit of fun."

"No more Flying?" Adriana nudged him.

"I've got Quidditch for that. What else are they going to teach me?"

"You've a point at that." Adriana sighed. "I suppose this is the time where I'm supposed to decide what I want to do with my life, so I know which classes I ought to be taking. It's a pity I can't just keep on taking them all and see what I'm good at."

"Well, why not? I can't think everyone knows exactly what they want to do for the rest of their lives when they're sixteen," Nigel said. Of course, his family was a bit odd in that respect, what with his Dad and Heather and the gardens, or Neah with her flying, and later specializing in Healing and Quidditch injuries. "Rose didn't. She didn't decide she wanted to be an Auror until just this past spring, so she's still hoping she's made proper marks in all her NEWTs so she can start training at the Ministry in the fall."

Adriana laughed softly. "I can't imagine Rose being anything but an Auror, really. She's far too blunt to be in something like Mysteries, and she rather does love a good fight."

"She's a stubborn git," Nigel agreed with that much at least. "I'm sure she'll make it, and if not, she'll be a Hit Wizard and shame them into promoting her up through the ranks quickly." The idea of his outgoing, overly stubborn, closest sister being anything but the shining example of the best boggled him. "I wonder if they'd have taken her as an Auror just for winning the tournament, well, if she had. Such a pity that Bergstrom managed to beat her out at the last minute."

Adriana snickered. "Oh, but it was so worth it just to see the looks on folks' faces. When it came out that his Dad lied about Bergstrom's Mum being a Squib and she's entirely non-magical, so he's only half-blood himself? Priceless, just priceless. All those Purebloods having to deal with the first non-Pureblooded winner of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Possibly the most brilliant moment of the year."

"If Rose knew, I'd almost suspect her of losing just to see it done," Nigel mused. "I mean, Mum's Muggleborn, so Rose is half-blood too, but it's not the same _shock_ value sort of half-blood."

Adriana shifted, looking away from him, staring at a point on the wall. "She might have known. They got on rather well, you know. I believe he's coming to see her, once he's done touring Scandinavia this summers. He writes her every other day."

That was food for thought, but perhaps for another time, as Adriana had reminded him of something. "Oh, before I forget again. Seamus owled to ask if we'd gotten our marks yet, and he's asking after you. He was thinking about perhaps coming to visit later in the summer." Nigel nudged Adriana's shoulder. "Wondered if you'd be about, and if you were missing him at all."

Seamus wore his heart on his sleeve, and Nigel figured that if he knew about Seamus' fancy, Adriana had to have noticed it. And while he didn't _like_ to think of his mates together like that, he figured it was better than Adriana figuring out how Nigel himself felt about her. He nudged her again when she stayed silent, staring at that spot, rather than answer. "Come on then, what should I send back to him?"

Adriana drew in a breath that shuddered through her, shivering where she leaned against his shoulder. "Nigel, I..."

"Oi!"

Nigel turned as Adriana fell silent again, looking where Rose hovered on her broom outside of the window. His sister grinned, showing Nigel his broom in her hand. "Come on, then, you two. I've got six Es in my NEWTs to celebrate, and I've a mind to do so with a game of Quidditch. Alicia and Julien are already down there, and Heather says she'll come down in a bit. I know there are more Weasleys we could scare up. And you two look far too serious. Fail all your OWLs?"

"Far from it; your brother's got 7 Os." Adriana's smile seemed off to Nigel, but it fooled Rose, who hooted merrily in reply.

"Brill, Nigel, Mum'll be pleased with that. Bet you get that new broom you've been angling after for your birthday next week." Rose dropped the broom in through the window, then pulled back. "Meet you out in the fields, yeah?"

"Yeah." Nigel waved her away and scrambled up to collect his broom. Looking back, he thought Adriana still seemed oddly quiet. "You alright there?"

"Oh yeah, I'm fine." Adriana beamed. "Go on out the window and meet them. And owl back Seamus tonight and tell him he ought to be here in August and not to forget his broom." She pulled her broom out from where it had been kicked under her bed, and nodded at the door. "I'm going to go show Mum and Mum my marks, and head out the front door, rather than setting off alarms and having Mum come after me to find out what's up. I'll meet you out there."

Nigel wasn't fooled, something was still wrong, the way her eyes were quiet and flat. He leaned in and gave her an awkward hug. "We'll talk again, figure out what NEWTs you really want. Maybe research out some things you could do that'd be fun after we're done school."

"Yeah, that'd be cool." She kissed his cheek lightly, and nudged him towards the window. "Go on, then."

And he did, but when he glanced back, she was still standing in her room, staring at the wall again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is based on characters and situations inspired by the game The Cold War. Many thanks are due to players from that game for answering questions and supplying help with their characters as I worked on this piece.
> 
> Please note that while this work is marked explicit, the explicit text only appears in the final chapter, after the characters are of age.
> 
> **Disclaimer:** I do not own, nor gain anything from, the world of Harry Potter. That belongs to JK Rowling. I just like to write in it, and Nigel, Julien, and Adriana are mine all mine and live in my head.

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[character: adriana fawcett-edgecombe](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/character:+adriana+fawcett-edgecombe), [character: julien malfoy](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/character:+julien+malfoy), [character: nigel longbottom](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/character:+nigel+longbottom), [fic](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/fic), [game: the cold war](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/game:+the+cold+war)  
  
---|---  
  
### Chapter 6

**Year Six**

_You're good as gone  
August is over_  
\-- We the Kings

It wasn't a date. It had been the usual group of friends, although Finn had split off to attend with Nicola Wentz, a fifth year girl, but the rest of them remained in the same group they had floated in and out of for the Ball since third year. And yet, here Nigel was off to one side, closeted near one of those elusive nooks, with Alicia Weasley.

She was a pretty thing, petite like her dad only not nearly so broad-shouldered as Charlie was. And she had her mom's pale eyes, a strange cross between blue and green that shifted brightly with her moods, glittering a sea foam green just now as she gazed up at Nigel.

Gazing up. Nigel still found it weird to be taller than anyone, even though he was still small compared to most of the boys, but at least now several of the girls were smaller than he. He smiled down at her. "I wonder, sometimes, if I'll get too tall to be a proper Seeker," he mused. "Although Malfoy's still managing and he's gotten decently tall."

"Malfoy's shaped like a stick," Alicia pointed out. "All skin and bones and nothing else. I can't think what Liesl sees in him. Can you imagine what it must be like cuddling him for a bit of a snog? Like getting stuck with sharp sticks at the same time."

Nigel shuddered. "I'd rather not think of having a bit of a cuddle or a snog with Malfoy, thank you very much."

Alicia laughed, tucking her arm around Nigel's waist and leaning against his shoulder. "Alright then, tell me who you do want to snog. There must be someone by now, Nigel Longbottom. So who is she?"

"Er. Never mind that, why don't you tell me who you want to snog instead?" Nigel stammered, skin brightly flushed at the thought of telling Alicia, who he knew would tell Adriana.

Alica tugged him to a stop, and wrapped her arms around his waist. "When I give you the cue saying 'who do you want to snog' the answer is _supposed_ to be 'you, Alicia' and then you snog me."

Nigel stared at her, uncertain. "Er? It is?"

She laughed, pushing herself up on tiptoes so quickly he didn't know quite what to do. Then her lips met his, soft and warm and fleeting, before she slid back down again. She pointed up. "Mistletoe."

Nigel glanced up, and for a ridiculous moment found himself wondering whether there were nargles in the sprig hanging from the ceiling above their heads. Nargles? Now? When he had a pretty girl (although she wasn't Adriana) in his arms? He looked back down at her, at those soft eyes and that tip-tilted nose sprinkled with freckles. "I suppose I ought to kiss you back."

"We're still under the mistletoe."

Right then. He supported her back, carefully holding her as he bent down to find her mouth with his again. He took his time at it, trying to see exactly how it worked, how it felt as he shifted the angle of his head slightly. Some small part of his mind took snapshots of each taste, each moment, and stored them away to pick apart later on. He considered her, a faint frown furrowing his forehead, as he pulled back. "Are you quite determined to make sure everyone has their first snog?"

Her eyes sparkled with laughter. "The ones who deserve it, yes, and you most certainly do. And not bad for a beginner, although I think you ought to find yourself a girlfriend and practice regularly. You might even find you like it, Nigel."

"Oh, I rather liked it." He had to admit that, as even though he wasn't abruptly _uncomfortable_ as just being around Adriana made him, or certain things he'd, well, read... clasping her tight to him, feeling her along the length of his body, had certainly affected him. His skin remained warm and flushed, heating more as he made the admission. "I shouldn't mind doing it again. But you don't particularly kiss the same bloke more than once, do you."

It wasn't really a question. He'd known her since they were children, and he'd seen how she flirted and teased, but never settled.

"I never do," she agreed. "Why, Nigel? Am I going to break your heart?" Her eyes widened, almost looking hopeful, and he wondered if she actually wanted him to do it again.

He shook his head. "Sorry, no, and no," he quickly added, as she started to ask, "I'm not going to tell you who I fancy. I don't need that getting all about school. We can talk about anything else you like, or I can kiss you again, but that one thing is off limits."

She considered him for a moment, then went up on tiptoes to brush a teasing kiss across his lips, one that caught him off-guard and shivered down his spine in altogether pleasant ways. He was thankful for loose dress robes, so he'd not be embarrassed to go back into the ball.

"Alright," she said, head cocked. "I'll stop asking who you fancy if... you give me a hint about Ravenclaw's plans for the match against Slytherin this weekend."

Nigel blinked, trying to force blood back to his brain from where it had traveled instead. "Why do you care about what we do against Slytherin? Er, other than that if we beat Slytherin, your ranking goes up."

"Oh, Adriana's been hinting that you lot have developed the next big play to take the Quidditch world by storm, and she won't give a hint of what it is," Alicia pouted. "And I'm sure you'll use it when you're up against Malfoy, since I know you can't stand when he wins. But I won't know where to be looking, and I'll likely miss it. And I'm scouting for our team."

Nigel gave a soft snort of laughter. "And you think I'll just roll over and tell it to you? Adriana'd have my hide, then strip me of the co-captaincy, replace me with that prat Mick, and kick me off the team."

"Then tell me who you fancy," Alicia insisted with a playful grin.

"Extortion," Nigel said, flushing brightly. "And it's not going to work. You'll just have to be disappointed. My loyalty's to my team." And Adriana. Couldn't possibly disappoint his best mate.  
.  
Alicia considered him for a moment, then laughed and kissed him thoroughly once more, setting his head back to spinning and blood to thundering in his veins. "It was worth a try!" she said cheerily before unwinding herself from him. "I'm going to go see if I can steal Finn for a dance, since he's been glued to his date's side, and that's not fair. You ought to get out on the dance floor yourself, Nigel."

He shook his head, trying to catch his balance again in the whirlwind of physical sensation mixed with questions. "Er, no, I don't think so. I haven't managed to grow a right foot yet." At Alicia's blank look he added, "I've two left feet. While dancing. I'm more likely to step on a girl than twirl her about the room."

"Ah." She giggled. "Well then, you'll just have to find that one you fancy and drag her off into the alcoves for a proper snog. Get that practice in, Nigel Longbottom, and I suspect you'll be properly brilliant at it."

He watched as she walked off, and tried desperately to think of something, _anything_, other than the images her instructions had brought to mind. But peeking in to watch his friends, he saw Adriana twirling about the floor with Seamus, her head tipped back as she laughed. Nigel's body tightened all over again, almost uncomfortably, and he decided maybe it'd be simplest if he followed tradition. And so, he stepped back away again, and made his usual trek up to his room, early, after the Yule Ball.

#

"You snogged Alicia Weasley?" Seamus leaned on his elbows, his Charms book forgotten. "Go on then, tell me all about it. Are the two of you an item now?"

"Are you mad?" Nigel fought fair skin and lost, feeling his cheeks warm. "Alicia doesn't date. It was just a bit of a snog under the mistletoe. I think she really just wanted to get the Quidditch plays out of me."

Seamus frowned thoughtfully. "Interesting tactic, that, and you know, we could use that information... hey!" He ducked as Nigel tossed a piece of crumpled up parchment at him. "Final matches are coming up, and we're close for the cup. It's us or you lot, and we could use any advantage."

"Are the two of you planning on studying today, or ought I go find someplace else to finish the work?" Julien yanked out a chair and dropped into it, just in time for Nigel to bounce crumpled parchment off his shoulder. He gave Nigel a dark look, then one eyebrow delicately arched. "You're pink, Longbottom. Have you been working Potions in your spare time?"

"Nah, just recounting the deliciousness of Alicia Weasley's lips," Seamus laughed as Nigel tossed another parchment ball at him. "It's the truth, mate."

Julien's lips pursed, staring at Nigel. "First kiss, is it? She does so seem to delight in giving those away."

Which was when Nigel remembered sitting at this very table, watching as Alicia claimed that honor from Julien. From Julien's sour expression, it wasn't something he remembered with fondness.

"Er, yes, first kiss," he admitted. "Wasn't half bad. We don't all have steady snogs like you do, Malfoy."

"Perhaps that's what you need, Longbottom," Julien suggested. "Better company than your..."

"That's enough, Malfoy," Nigel snapped, cheeks flushed brightly. He could supply the rest of Julien's crudity and didn't need to hear it said. "We've Charms work to do, and there's no more need to talk about snogging that isn't likely to happen."

"You might just need opportunity," Julien mused, tapping his quill against parchment. "Have you been considering the summer exchange programme? I intend to participate this year, and I do believe my cousin Chantelle is participating from Beauxbatons."

"If I join in, will you introduce me?" Seamus nudged Julien. "She must be gorgeous."

"Actually, yes, Adriana and I've already put in our applications. Won't hear if we're accepted for another month, though." But since Mum was running the program, Nigel rather figured he would be. After all, Neah'd gone when she was still a girl, and each of his sisters had been through the exchange, Rose more than once.

"Adriana's going? Then I'll definitely put in an application. Between her and Veela girls, can't think it'd be a bad time," Seamus mused.

"Is Liesl going?" Nigel asked, wanting to dig at Julien somehow and not sure that would do the job. The brief flicker of a scowl, quickly schooled away, was reward enough, and Nigel managed to resist the urge to smirk at that fleeting expression.

"As it so happens, yes, Liesl handed in her application this morning," Julien said, tone cool. "We are quite looking forward to spending time together away from the watchful eyes of our parents."

Mmph. The thoughts that engendered brought disturbing mental imagery to mind, and Nigel shivered, warm and chilled all at once as he reached out for the notes and decided to simply start work again. But the most disturbing thing, he decided, was that if Julien were contemplating _that_, oughtn't he look happier about the idea?

#

Two decades after the first tentative exchange programme was initiated between Hogwarts and Beauxbatons, it now ran like clockwork every summer. First, ten students would arrive from Beauxbatons to Hogwarts and would help with the camp held for younger children as well as taking part in special studies with Hogwarts professors and the ten chose Hogwarts students. Then all would travel back to Beauxbatons to do the same at that campus. Nigel had participated as a child in Camp Hogwarts and had met the students then, but in this summer before his seventh year, it was the first time he had participated directly in the exchange.

The first few days had been hectic: figuring out where he had classes, with whom, how to study in this strange new (and fast paced) environment, figuring out how to deal with young children, and understanding the visiting students and professors. He found himself sticking close by Adriana and Julien, as both spoke French and could serve as interpreter when needed. Of course, this meant he was also in close contact with Julien's cousin Chantelle, a young woman who made him supremely uncomfortable simply by being in the same room. While he could ignore the onslaught on his emotional senses, the physical ones were nearly impossible to discard, leaving him tense and agitated, and unable to explain _why_ to anyone.

Most especially to Chantelle, who had already confided she appreciated his sweet nature, and that he had not tripped over his tongue in speaking with her. Instead of being able to avoid her, she sought him out regularly, much to Adriana's amusement (and Adriana seemed to disappear every time she spotted Chantelle arriving, much to Nigel's frustration).

But by the time they traveled to Beauxbatons, Nigel had managed to find some level of small comfort in his dealings with the youngest daughter of Bill and Fleur Weasley (her fascination with Quidditch had gone a long way towards helping, as she spent hours on the pitch with Julien, Adriana, and Nigel), and no longer flinched when he spotted her hurrying towards him. "'ave you see my cousin?" she asked in quick soft words. "Maman is here, with Tante Gabrielle, and he must come quickly."

Nigel set aside the book he had been reading, carefully marking his place and leaving it for later. "Er, is something the matter?"

"Non, non," Chantelle assured him. "But Gabrielle wishes to surprise him, and I do not know if Julien wishes to be disturbed."

If Julien didn't wish to be disturbed... Nigel could only think of one reason. He tried to remember the conversation he'd overheard between Julien and Seamus the other day, then nodded quickly. "Come on, I suspect we'll find him out behind the stables." When Chantelle's eyes widened, he muttered, "Seamus said he managed to get away with snogging Dominique without getting caught there, and didn't detect any wardings. Left, a, er, blanket behind. So, er... Julien and Liesl... might be there." His cheeks were flushed, and so were Chantelle's by the time he was done with his obtuse response, so he left it at that as the two headed quickly in just that direction.

They found Liesl first, stalking past them without so much as a hello. Nigel flashed a look at Chantelle -- that couldn't bode well -- and the two stepped up their pace, slipping behind the stables and pausing to let their eyes adjust in the darkness.

"Julien?" Chantelle's soft voice twisted his name with a French accent, as it was properly meant to be said. "Êtes-vous ici?"

"I don't wish company," Julien growled in the darkness.

"Er, Malfoy, your er... your Mum's here. At Beauxbatons," Nigel stammered.

An abrupt shuffling movement, then Julien stood before them. Long hair pulled from its queue tangled around his shoulders, a few long strands obscuring grey eyes that flashed stormclouds. "And I do not wish to see her," he growled, hands in fists by his side. "Do be helpful and deliver the message, and leave me the bloody hell alone." Twisting in place, he Disapparated with a sharp crack as Nigel and Chantelle stepped back from the sudden rush of wind into the space where Julien had been.

"Merde," Chantelle cursed softly. "Where 'as he gone?"

"There's no place special here," Nigel said quietly. "Likely either the pitch, or the dormitory. I'll check the latter first, then the former if he's not there, or if he's taken his broom. Can you go stall your mum and his mum until I've found him?"

Chantelle paused, lightly touching Nigel's arm. "You do not like my cousin, oui?"

Nigel had a rueful smile. "Oui. He's always been a prat."

"Then why do you help us more than I have asked?"

Nigel snorted softly. "Because no matter how much you convince someone else to go find him, he'll do a better job of convincing them go away. But I've never been impressed enough to care. I'll make him furious and he'll go deal with his mum just to get away."

Chantelle leaned up, brushing a soft kiss against his cheek. "You are sweet, Nigel Longbottom. Merci."

Nigel twisted from her, using the first steps of Apparition to hide the warmth of his skin. He faltered as he stepped out, still unused to the transport after only having had his license a few weeks.

"Don't fall on me, Longbottom."

He stepped back quickly, just managing not to trip over Julien's bed. "Wasn't intending to, Malfoy. I'm just the messenger; don't bite."

"I can't hardly think you'd taste good," Julien drawled, eyes closed, stretched on the bed. "You also have no need to be here, so go."

"Er. No." Nigel sank to sit on his own bed, the space of Seamus' bed between them. "Do you really want your mum to come find you in your room and ask why you're sulking?"

"Is my father here?"

Nigel blinked. "Er, no, I don't think so. Chantelle only mentioned your mum. I've always rather liked your mum."

Dry laughter. "She's Veela. You're supposed to like her."

Nigel shook his head. "Isn't that. I don't like _you_, after all. She's just always seemed rather nice when she's having some time with Mum."

Julien pushed himself to sit up. "Frankly, Longbottom, I've no desire to deal with either of my parents just now. In fact, if you'll recall, I entered this program explicitly to have some time free of them."

"With Liesl." As soon as he saw the look on Julien's face, dark and stormy, Nigel wished he'd not let that slip out. "Er. Did you fight?"

Julien's fair skin warmed. "Something like that."

"I wonder if your mum'll bump into her if she goes looking for you," Nigel mused, half an eye on the other boy, catching the sudden tension.

"That would be a disaster," Julien said quietly. "Go find Liesl and distract her."

Nigel rolled his eyes. "I'm not your slave to follow orders, Malfoy. Still."

"But you are my personal healer," Julien smirked.

"Not hardly." Nigel crossed his arms, looking at him. "Do I have to toss you out of that bed, or bring your mum back here?"

"Merlin, no, leave me some place of peace." Julien pushed himself to a seat, then stretched as he stood. "I'll find her before Liesl does." Nothing more, and certainly not thanks, as he twisted in place and Disapparated away.

#

Chantelle found Nigel in Beauxbatons' gardens, taking careful notes as he walked through, capturing a little information about everything he thought his father or sister might be intrigued by. "Do you work?" she asked him, capturing his hand. "It is evening, time to relax."

"My Dad's an herbologist, and my sister's following in his footsteps. Thought there might be some things here they haven't seen yet." And it meant he didn't have to go back to his room.

"Vous êtes très gentil," Chantelle murmured. "Sweet. You do very nice things for people."

Nigel flushed brightly. "Not entirely, Chantelle."

"Oui," she insisted. "You are. You take your time to bring things to your family. And you help even those you do not like." She reached up, placing a hand at each side of his face, and leaned up to brush a soft kiss against his lips. "Thank you. Tante Gabrielle was quite pleased to see her son, and she does not know what he was doing before."

Which brought to mind the bizarre image of Julien entwined with Liesl... and the image of his anger afterwards. And hers. Nigel shivered, suddenly thoroughly uncomfortable. "Well, er, yes, best that not get about, I'm certain. Although I don't think anything happened."

Chantelle giggled. "Oui, certainement. Poor Liesl."

"Not poor Malfoy?" Nigel asked, bewildered when Chantelle fell to giggles once more. But there was no explanation; the girl apparently had no sympathy for her cousin in this.

When she had composed herself, she squeezed his hands. "You have amour for Adriana, oui?" At his flush, she kissed both his cheeks. "Oui, it is true. I wish you luck, Nigel. She could do far worse than you."

"Ah, er, thank you." He could feel the bright warmth of his face burning hot. Could everyone see it but Adriana. "I, er... you won't say a word to her, will you?"

Chantelle made a motion with her finger across her lips. "Non, not a word. Secrets are safe with me." One hand still tucked in his, she started walking, drawing him companionably through the gardens with her. "Do not rush to where my cousin has," she murmured. "Some day he will learn to wait until the time is right."

"Malfoy?" Nigel snorted. "You have far more faith in his sense than I ever will."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is based on characters and situations inspired by the game The Cold War. Many thanks are due to players from that game for answering questions and supplying help with their characters as I worked on this piece.
> 
> Please note that while this work is marked explicit, the explicit text only appears in the final chapter, after the characters are of age.
> 
> **Disclaimer:** I do not own, nor gain anything from, the world of Harry Potter. That belongs to JK Rowling. I just like to write in it, and Nigel, Julien, and Adriana are mine all mine and live in my head.

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[character: adriana fawcett-edgecombe](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/character:+adriana+fawcett-edgecombe), [character: julien malfoy](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/character:+julien+malfoy), [character: nigel longbottom](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/character:+nigel+longbottom), [fic](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/fic), [game: the cold war](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/game:+the+cold+war)  
  
---|---  
  
### Chapter 7

**Year Seven**

_I can feel the magic floating in the air_  
\-- Faith Hill

 

After six and a half years, Nigel had finally reached a point where he was not just comfortable at Hogwarts, but actually believed this would be his night of nights. Adriana had accepted his invitation to the Yule ball. He had new dress robes (courtesy of a shopping trip with Neah) and had managed to clean up somewhat respectably. He had finally grown during the summer before their seventh year and while still not as tall a man as his father, he had filled out and approached something like average height. And so, he stood with the other young men waiting for the girls to come down on the night of the ball, and when Adriana stepped onto the stairs, his mouth went dry.

"You're, er... you're beautiful tonight," he told her, taking her hand carefully when she reached him. And she was, with her golden hair swept up in curls, and a sky blue dress that made her eyes shine. "I think I'll be with the girl everyone else is watching."

"That's sweet, Nigel." Adriana kissed his cheek fondly, tangling her fingers in his and squeezing gently. "I hope you're planning on actually dancing with me tonight."

"I've, er... I've been practicing," Nigel admitted. "Dad says not to pay attention to what I'm doing, and it gets easier."

She laughed, sliding closer and tucking her arm in his, leaning into him. "Don't worry, Nigel, you'll do fine. I've been looking forward to this. We ought to have come up with this idea years ago. The Yule Ball will be far more fun with you than it ever was with anyone else."

Did she say that? Yes, she said that. Nigel felt his cheeks warm, and fought to keep the blush away. "I'm rather glad as well."

And it turned out, his father had been right with his advice, and Adriana had been right as well. They danced, and Adriana convinced him to dance with all of the other Ravenclaw girls, plus several other girls from their year and from nearby years. He was surprised and vaguely embarrassed at the giggling of the fifth year girls who giggled at his attention and danced closer to him than he was comfortable with. When he had finally escaped, and returned to Adriana for some time on the outskirts of the party, he was flushed, and she laughed at his expression.

"What did you expect, Nigel? You're older than they are, not half-bad looking," she bumped his hip with hers, teasing, "and a star Quidditch player. Folks are saying we're likely to take the cup this year, and that's due in part to you, you know."

"Ah." Nigel didn't quite know what to do with that, and the flush only intensified. "Well, I think I'm rather done with dancing. I don't suppose you, er... would you like to take a bit of a walk?"

Adriana slipped her hand into his. "I'd love to. It's hot in here, and hopefully they've made certain the 'gardens' are cooler."

The faculty had carefully crafted the next room to mimic the outdoor gardens at springtime, temperate, with the scent of roses thick in the air, and a faint cool breeze. Bright moonlight shone down from the ceiling, stars sparkling in the magical sky. It was perfectly romantic, and also, Nigel was well aware, full of small alcoves where couples could linger.

"I... I've had a good time tonight, Adriana."

"I have too." She smiled at him, and he thought she was even more beautiful in this soft light, the way it made her skin glow and her hair gleam, and the little wisps that had escaped the pins curled around her cheeks. "It's so good to get to be with someone so dear a friend, and not worry about what you'll be expecting of me when the night's done."

"Yes... er?" Nigel stumbled on what he'd been going to say next, his hand unwittingly tightening on hers. That wasn't quite the way the script had gone in his mind. "Er. What would you be worried about?"

Adriana rolled her eyes. "Do you remember two years ago, when I went to the Yule ball with Seph Pucey? I saw you out here, afterwards, remember? Well, he brought me out here halfway through the night, pressed up against one of the trees, his tongue halfway down my throat. I'd thought we were _friends_ and there he was, pawing me like an animal. Boys." She sighed, and swayed closer to Nigel. "But you're different."

"I'm still a boy," Nigel blurted. He didn't want to think about Seph kissing Adriana. But he did want to think about himself doing it. He stopped walking and looked at her. "Did you... I mean... what if I were, er, polite about it? Kissing you, I mean."

Adriana stopped as well, eyes wide in the soft moonlight. "Oh... oh bloody hell. Nigel, no, don't tell me... I tried to tell you... thought you already _knew_."

He could feel it, the sensation of her foot planted firmly in his gut, taking his breath away. He struggled to school his expression. "Knew what?"

Her gaze dropped, then slowly came back to meet his. "That we were friends. I mean, we are friends. _Best_ friends. We've been friends for a long time. I didn't think... this was a date, Nigel."

"Ah." Words fled, burned away by the fire in his face. "Well then."

"I don't like boys," she said quietly. "Not romantically. Or physically. It's not you. It's just... I'd rather be with a girl that way. I... I thought you knew that."

Nigel abruptly remembered Julien's statement two years back that Adriana was bent as a corkscrew. Perhaps he ought to have listened to it, rather than carry a torch for so long. His voice sounded oddly remote when he spoke. "You sound terribly certain of that."

"Oh, I am. I've had a good example set by my mothers about being sure in one's self, unlike _some_ people I could think of."

Nigel wondered who she meant. And rather hoped she didn't mean him. "I like you. I mean. I like girls." The flush intensified. "Look, Adriana, I think I'm going to go on back up to the dorm."

She shook her head, slipping in close to kiss him fondly on the cheek. "No, you were having a good time before I pulled the rug out from under you. Go on back in there and charm those fifth year girls completely. I think I'll go have a bit of a rest myself." She stepped back, regarding him closely. "We're still friends, aren't we? I don't want to lose you."

He nodded. "Of course, Adriana." They'd known each other since they were born, and he had difficulty imagining life without her in it. He'd just rather thought that someday she'd be in it in a different role. "Best of friends. Nothing's going to change that."

He watched as she left, then turned back towards the ball. At the door he changed his mind, unwilling to chance going back in alone and instead, decided to disappear back to his own room. He ought to have a few hours of peace and quiet to let him regain his composure, before everyone else returned.

#

Nigel's peace was interrupted when the door slammed open, then closed again with an irritable thunk. Julien made no attempt to remain silent, stripping off his dress robes and throwing them on top of his trunk without bothering to pull the curtains around his bed. He toed off his shoes, kicking them under the bed, then stripped down to boxers before rooting around to find something to wear to sleep.

After a moment, Julien stopped, and turned slowly. "What the bloody hell are you doing in here, Longbottom? Didn't I hear you actually had a date with Adriana for the fete tonight?"

Nigel felt the warmth pink his cheeks. "I did." He rolled to a seat on the edge of his bed, running his fingers through clipped curls that had gotten too long to stay under any control. After a moment, he gave up trying to tame unruly hair and just let it be; it wasn't his fault that Julien's ability to always seem unruffled always made him feel like a complete mess. There was Julien in just briefs, and yet, Nigel felt like the one who was under dressed. "She, uh, _we_ decided we were done with the party, so she went back to her room and I didn't quite want to go back in alone." It was his seventh year, and he'd thought he'd be done with the embarrassment by now, and yet, every time, it still surfaced when he proved how socially inept he remained. "Surprised you're back so early yourself. Looked like you were having a grand time of it."

"Not really." Julien's tone was dry. "Believe it or not, Longbottom, there are times when being me is exhausting. Tonight was one of those times."

"Sure, right, it's horrid having girls begging your attention so much you can't escape the dance floor," Nigel snapped. "Or having everyone dance attendance on your every word. I can't think what would be exhausting about knowing that everyone in that room would snap to attention if you just crooked your finger at them."

"Not everyone." There was an odd tone to the words, and they hung in the silence for a moment. Finally, Julien lay back on his bed, not bothering to dress, head pillowed on his crooked arms, legs dangling off the end of the bed. "And it is exhausting. I didn't ask my father to marry for blood. I never _asked_ to be Veela. It might actually be interesting once in a while to have someone like me, rather than my blood or my name. But it's either that or you, who despises me." Grey eyes closed, breathing a shallow movement of his pale chest. "Did you know my father expects me to marry Liesl? I expect it's all because her mother was a 'fond friend' of his once, and he could never manage to get it up for her. So now he expects me to come through on familial obligation, a generation later. I feel rather like a substitute dick."

"Er." What the hell was Nigel supposed to say to that? Especially in light of the events of last summer, which some days Nigel rather wondered if anyone remembered aside from himself. "Well, she is rather beautiful. You'll... er... you'll have lovely children."

"And she'll wait on me hand and foot and be dazzled into subservience, as befits the Malfoy status."

A long moment of silence stretched out, broken only by the faint scratch of Nigel's feet against the stone floor as he shifted, not sure whether he should stand or sit, stay or leave. Perhaps retreating into his bed and pulling the curtain shut was the best option.

Julien's voice was so quiet, Nigel almost missed it when he spoke again. "Er. Excuse me?"

"Fuck status," Julien enunciated perfectly the second time. "Fuck the Malfoy name. Oh, and while I'm at it, fuck the Veela bloodline."

Nigel didn't move. _Couldn't_ move, sure he'd imagined the hitch in Julien's voice. He couldn't possibly be seeing Julien's shoulders shake slightly, couldn't hear the soft hiccups swallowed stoically.

He should go over there, he knew. Cross past Chase's bed, and sit on Julien's, and offer some comfort. It would be the right thing to do, and yet, he couldn't manage to stand and so, he just sat and watched while trying somehow not to let Julien know he saw.

"You've always hated me, Longbottom, and for what it's worth, I appreciate that." Julien's voice was muffled as he sat up, rubbing one hand against his forehead before reaching for the curtain. The rings scratched metal on metal as he drew it closed, muffling his voice further as Julien disappeared from view. "You've no idea how refreshing it is to get an honest reaction from someone. So thank you for that."

Nigel drew his own curtains shut, pulling himself back onto the bed, sitting cross-legged. "You're welcome," he said for lack of anything better to respond. He shifted, suddenly oddly uncomfortable being here in the room alone with Julien in this mood, and he knew his book would be unable to draw him in again. "I... er... I'm glad I could help."

A soft snort of laughter from two sets of curtains away. "Careful, Longbottom. Don't be too nice; someone might mistake this for a friendly conversation."

"Impossible, Malfoy, considering I hate you," Nigel snapped back, an unexpected smile twisting his mouth as he laid back, head pillowed on his bent arms. "I think the world can rely on how I feel about you."

"Mm." There was a rustling, as if Julien moved about on the bed, and then a bit of light cast, so Nigel could see his silhouette through the curtains. The slender shape lay on its side, one elbow bent to prop up his head. "I've always wondered about that, actually. What is it makes you immune? Some sort of stubborn inherited from your mother? Pity we can't bottle it and serve it to the entire school."

That was an interesting thought. "What if we could?"

The curtain moved, and slid back, letting Julian's fair features appear, his pale hair free of its usual bindings and cascading over his shoulders. Nigel matched the movement, fighting with the curtains so he could look across and meet Julien's eyes. "Have you an idea?" Julien asked.

"Not specifically," Nigel said. "But I've books aplenty and as a Ravenclaw I'd like to think there's no magic I can't manage to figure out. Might be simpler to swap places for a day... give you my invisibility and I'd take a bit of your popularity. Can't think I'd mind that."

Something shifted in Julien's expression, grey eyes careful and serious. "You're not invisible, Longbottom."

"Yes I am." The words were automatic, but nothing came after them, vocabulary slipping from Nigel's mind as he lay there, pinned by that grey gaze. "Ah... er..." he swallowed, suddenly uncomfortable, pulling back to hide behind the curtain.

"Of course, if you're determined to hide every time someone pays you a compliment, you might as well be," Julien said dryly. "For God's sake, do you think I'd needle you so much if I weren't well aware that you exist? It's no fun to tease someone who isn't anyone at all. So," his tone lightened, as if nothing mattered, and he withdrew behind his curtain as well. "You're worth that, at least."

"Ah." Nigel swallowed, hard, curling up and closing his eyes as if it would shut out the confusion. "Er. Good to know."

_I always know where you are._

Nigel's eyes opened again at the soft words, staring into the darkness, the light having been dispelled. "What?"

A moment's hesitation, then softly, "I didn't say anything. Go to sleep, Longbottom. Or read. Or have a wank for all I care. Whatever it was you were in the middle of when I came up."

Right. As if he could read now. So instead he lay there in the dark, curled around himself, shivering and aching for something he couldn't understand.

#

 

It took more than a month of research, carrying stacks of books back to his room to read inside his curtain at night after studying was done, or long hours in the library itself. Nigel knew he ought to be studying for his upcoming NEWTs, but the lure of a problem to be solved niggled away at his mind until he couldn't resist picking at it. And with a potential solution readied, he had stayed behind on Hogsmeade weekend, notes and books spread out around the dorm room.

"This had best be good." Julien leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, regarding Nigel. "As I just broke Liesl's heart by breaking our Valentine's Day date. I'm quite certain I shall hear about it from my father."

"You don't care about her heart." Nigel gathered up the papers, carefully piling them into appropriate stacks on his bed. "You don't care about anyone's heart."

"Not entirely true." Julien unfolded his lanky frame, not nearly as tall as he used to be in comparison, but his features still as delicate as they had always been. He nudged one of the piles to the side, settling on the bed. "But it is true, I have no care for _her_ heart in this regard, only my own skin when my father gets his hands on me. Now. Tell me why we're meeting today."

"I've an answer for you." There wasn't enough room on the bed for all the notes, Julien, and himself. Nigel inched further back towards the wall, restructuring the piles again to try to make more space. "We've two options." He drew in a breath, looking up to see Julien staring intently back at him. "The first is fairly simple, but not likely to achieve the proper results. We use a combination of polyjuice potions and something to dampen your natural tendencies, and something to give similar abilities to me. Frankly, I don't trust my calculations to be good enough to accomplish either of those charms properly."

Julien's crossed his arms, his back straight and tall as he regarded Nigel. "And the other?"

"I've found a spell." Nigel found the proper sheaf of rolled parchment and opened it between them. "It's actually quite simple. The only necessary ingredients are the proper incantation, wandwork, and blood and breath. And when it's done, your consciousness will be in my body, and vice versa."

"Blood," Julien said slowly. "And breath. Would you care to explain that more clearly?"

"Well, we er... we're talking about transferring our souls, I suppose. Our essence. So that's held here," he tapped his heart, "and expelled through blood, and the breath of life. Quite... simple... really."

"Quite." Julien looked over the parchment, murmuring, "I trust that you've made certain of everything. I shouldn't like to find myself suddenly somewhere else entirely, or perhaps clucking like a chicken. But if anyone can do it, it's likely you, Longbottom."

"Thank you for the vote of confidence." Nigel's tone was dry. "Does that mean we're going to go through with it?"

"Today?" One delicate eyebrow arched.

Nigel nodded, throat suddenly dry. "Er, yes. Today. Can't think when we'll have a better chance not to be disturbed."

"Very well." Julien gathered up the rest of the papers and books, pushing them towards Nigel so he could sit cross-legged. "Then let's begin."

Right then. Nigel took the papers and books from the bed, placing them carefully into his trunk for safekeeping, all except the one he required for this particular spell. Then he settled on the bed, facing Julien, likewise cross-legged. "Blood. And breath." His hand shook, just enough that the wand wavered.

"Oh for pity's sake, Longbottom, if you try to slice us with that, you'll bleed us dry." Julien reached across and grabbed Nigel's right wrist, drawing his own wand in a clean slice across it, murmuring the spell to open a shallow furrow in the skin. He then held his wand carefully in his left hand, and repeated the motion. Blood welled up in the slender cut, and Julien reached out again before it could drip onto the sheets, clasping Nigel's hand, wrist to wrist. "Next?"

"Right." Nigel held the wand clumsily in his left hand, but he'd practiced the motion several times, enough to keep it smooth as he spoke the words of the spell carefully. "Er. Now. Um. Breath."

"Exchange breath?" Julien asked.

Nigel's skin tingled, feeling the spell as if it slid over him, under him, in him, starting to pick him apart. He nodded, and lightly blew out, towards Julien.

"Don't be a wuss, Longbottom, or you'll arse this up completely and who knows where that'd leave us." Julien's left hand snaked out, grabbing the long hair curling at the nape of Nigel's neck, dragging him forward until they were forehead to forehead, Julien's warm breath washing over his face.

Nigel gasped, breathing out then roughly in, catching the taste of chocolate on Julien's breath, inhaling in one sharp breath, then exhaling.

"Relax." Julien breathed in and out. "Breathe with me, Longbottom." Voice low, almost hypnotic. "Breathe my breath. There we go." Slowly the two shifted, until their breath came in tandem, in for one while out for the other.

Nigel's mouth opened, head slanting as he relaxed. In. Out. The gentle warmth and rhythm made his head spin, so odd. The words to the spell slipped into his mind and he repeated them again with careful enunciation, eyes closing.

He almost didn't realize when they tilted closer yet, mouths meeting, sealing as breath slid in and out. He jerked back as soon as the pressure made sense to his mind, stopping when Julien's hand tightened in his hair. "Don't arse this up," Julien hissed, pulling him back, mouth closing over Nigel's again.

It wasn't what he expected. Just a spell, just a component in a spell. He wasn't kissing Julien Malfoy. Er. Malfoy wasn't kissing him. Breathe in. Breathe out. Slow. Steady. Relaxing, mouth softening, body warming. Arousing. He felt thick hair in his hand, fingers tangled around it, and finally drew back, staring at his own features.

The skin he saw was flushed, eyes bright. The body he was in was warm and tight, uncomfortable. "Er..."

"Don't stutter, Longbottom, or no one will believe you're me." The voice sounded rough to his ears as Julien wrestled with the words. "Are we done here?"

Nigel nodded mutely, struggling to find his tongue. "Yes, er... Just remember you're sick today. Stomach ailment."

"How helpful that I told Liesl the same thing." Julien stood, about to walk over to his own bed, then paused and gave Nigel a look.

Ah, right. Smile wavering, Nigel made his way to Julien's bed, the longer legs unfamiliar enough that he stumbled and half fell onto the mattress, while Julien fell back onto Nigel's bed. Perhaps it'd feel normal by the time their dormmates returned. And at least it didn't last long. Everything ought to be back to rights by Sunday night.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is based on characters and situations inspired by the game The Cold War. Many thanks are due to players from that game for answering questions and supplying help with their characters as I worked on this piece.
> 
> Please note that while this work is marked explicit, the explicit text only appears in the final chapter, after the characters are of age.
> 
> **Disclaimer:** I do not own, nor gain anything from, the world of Harry Potter. That belongs to JK Rowling. I just like to write in it, and Nigel, Julien, and Adriana are mine all mine and live in my head.

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[character: adriana fawcett-edgecombe](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/character:+adriana+fawcett-edgecombe), [character: julien malfoy](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/character:+julien+malfoy), [character: nigel longbottom](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/character:+nigel+longbottom), [fic](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/fic), [game: the cold war](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/game:+the+cold+war)  
  
---|---  
  
### Chapter 8

**Year Seven (continued)**

_'Cause I can feel you breathe  
It's washing over me_  
\-- Faith Hill

Three days. By now, Nigel knew Julien's habits well enough. He could walk as the other boy did, speak in his snarky dry tones, and had perfected the eyebrow rise (which had been shaky on Sunday). He had been cornered three times by Liesl, demanding to know why he had left her alone on Valentine's Day, and he had just barely managed to resist the temptation to break it off with her then and there.

Every moment he kept wondering when he would find himself snapped back into his body. And yet minute after minute, hour after hour... he still ate, breathed, spoke, and slept as Julien Malfoy.

He was tired of it. Tired of people cloying all around him, tired of seeing Julien escape the way he used to into obscurity. Tired of trying to find ways to be Julien and yet, still complete everything that needed to be done as Nigel, because he knew Julien would not (despite being in several of the same NEWT level classes).

And as he rose from Julien's desk after Charms and saw himself escaping quickly from class, he groaned inwardly. It was time to bite the bullet and ask for help. He gathered his things together and approached the desk where Hermione Longbottom sat, going over papers which had been handed in. He lowered his voice, barely audible, and said, "Mum, I need to talk to you. It's important."

He rather thought that might get her attention, given his appearance.

She shut the book with a decided _clap_ and set it away. "Of course. Would you like to sit down?"

Nigel couldn't tell whether she'd fully registered what he'd called her. And for all the time Julien had spent in their home, he'd certainly never taken to calling either of Nigel's parents Mum or Dad, nor had he tolerated endearments. He smiled tightly, starting to speak, when he heard a noise from the door. Oh bloody hell. He quickly schooled uncertainty into a haughty mask as he called out, "I'll be along in a bit, Chase. Go on and make certain i don't miss any of the cranberry scones for tea." The stiff pose lasted until the door was closed and he was left alone with his mother, then he muttered, "I loathe cranberry scones. How could Julien have such horrid taste?"

"I'm sure I can't say." His mother looked at him, waiting. "How may I be of use to you?"

Nigel sighed, lips pursing into an expression that echoed Julien perfectly. "Actually, I'm rather hoping you can help me untangle a bit of a problem, Mum. I'm not Julien. I'm Nigel." He shifted uncomfortably while waiting for his mother to reply.

"I did think you were having pronominal indigestion. Did someone slip you a Polyjuice Potion?" Many years of teaching had inured Hermione to the messes wizarding children got into.

For just a moment, Nigel considered taking the easy way out, but that wouldn't lead to _fixing_ the problem at hand. The only way to deal with it was to come clean. "Er. No. Actually, we determined that polyjuice potions wouldn't have the effect we were trying to accomplish, as Julien would have retained his blood given abilities, and thus, he'd just be me, but with his own charisma." Nigel took a deep breath. "The point was to change places, and so we did. But the spell claimed it would last twenty four hours. And er..." he flushed, Julien's fair skin pinking brightly. "We cast it on Saturday while everyone was at Hogsmeade, which is why I'd stayed back sick," he admitted. "It's Tuesday, and I'm still him. And he's still me. And I'd rather like my own body back."

Hermione accepted the explanation with rather more calm than Nigel expected, especially considering this may well have been the first time he had ever voluntarily co-operated with Julien. "Write down what you did, dear, as much as you remember, will you, please?" she asked.

He breathed a sigh of relief at the lack of recrimination. "I've notes." Nigel reached into the bag he used to carry his books, pulling out the carefully rolled sheaf of parchment which contained his original copy of the spell that he had made, with his own careful notes in the margins. The details were quite explicit; the only thing missing was the actual final execution as they had completed it. "An exchange of blood and breath seals the spell. So we er," he displayed his right wrist, with a thin line across it, "and well, er," he swallowed, "breathed." He fought, and for the moment won, against the rising flush.

He waited while his mother read through his notes, which were extensively written in a careful small writing reminiscent of his father's hand. "Very nicely done," she said. "You are a credit to your house, 'Julien.' Now then..." Her wand-tip came delicately down at a precise spot on the parchments. "Kindly pronounce this word for me. In isolation, it will have no effect."

Nigel nodded, and did so, idly rubbing at his wrist as he did.

"Mm, I thought so. The stress is properly on the _third_ syllable, dear."

"Merlin..." He groaned softly. "How do we undo it? I'd thought we might cast it again to put ourselves back but," the fair skin pinked brightly as he remembered quite vividly those missing details of the casting, "I er... well... I thought it might not be permanent." The words rushed out, hoping she'd not notice the warmth of his face. "So, er, what have I managed to do?"

Hermione smiled at him. "Nothing that can't be mended, if he is willing as well."

"I'm not intending to give him a choice," Nigel muttered.

"Well, as a practical matter, forcing him will make this much more difficult," she said. "How has he liked being you?"

He scowled, features fitting into a long familiar pattern. "I couldn't tell you. I've spent the last few days surrounded by his friends, getting yelled at by Liesl for abandoning her on Valentine's Day last weekend, and flying his practice for Quidditch instead of my own. By the time I've finished my work so that he doesn't totally arse up my marks, he's asleep. Chase thinks I've been spending all that time going around behind Liesl's back. Half tempted to tell him there is no behind her back since Julien's trying to figure out a way to break it off that won't have his father taking a strip out of his hide."

"Well, perhaps I'll just run over to the dormitory and see; what do you think?"

Grey eyes widened, and he shook his head. "Ah, er, isn't there something you can tell me to do, and I'll handle it? I'd rather not have him thinking I've gone running to my Mum." Because that was all his fragile reputation needed, if his mother were to go into the common room and pull him out of there. Whether his classmates thought him Nigel or realized that was Julien, it would still be another black mark against his magical record, and he was fairly certain he was the first Ravenclaw to ever be as fumblewanded as he was.

"How long do you care to remain as you are?" she asked. Hermione never did let her children dodge consequences, much though she disliked punishing them. "I'm afraid you've made rather a mess, and I'm not sure I dare trust you to undo it properly. Things could be _much_ worse, you know."

"You've no idea how disturbing they've already been," he muttered under his breath. "I'll go get him and bring him back, then. And Mum?" He scowled again. "The next time you suggest I be nicer to Julien, perhaps do him a favor, I think I shall remember this particular favor already done for him and refuse." He rather thought this one favor made up for a lifetime of arguments, and covered him for the next half dozen years. At least.

Hermione hid her smile. "Very well, dear."

Nigel's jaw set. If t'were to be done, t'were best done quickly and all that rot. He excused himself, polite as ever, tension showing as he stalked from the room to head directly to the common rooms of his dormitory. He saw himself sitting in the corner, reading quietly. He fixed the sneer which had come to feel familiar upon his expression and stated firmly, "Your mother wants to see you, Longbottom." When it looked as if Julien would say something, he added, "Immediately," in a tone that left no doubt of the importance.

After a long moment, Julien placed a bookmark and set aside the book, as Nigel oddly relaxed at the careful treatment of the book, and stood to join him. Julien glanced at Nigel, but he said nothing as they walked back to the Charms classroom.

When they arrived, Hermione sat on the edge of her desk, arms folded in her best imitation of Severus Snape. "I understand there has been something of a mixup. Would you care to explain, _my dear boy_?"

It was odd for Nigel to see his own features twist under Julien's expression, one eyebrow arching upwards as the other boy drew himself up to full height (thankfully finally not so short as he had been once, although Julien's body still topped his own height by several inches). "Nigel rather thought I might like a taste of his invisibility, despite the fact that your son is hardly invisible. It seems, however, that he is more powerful than expected, as the transformation has yet to wear off."

Hermione didn't reveal Nigel's mistake, suspecting that to do so would wound her son far deeper than was necessary or wise. "Well, then, if you two are quite _quite_ finished with your little game," she drawled Snapishly, "I should rather prefer you both in your proper containers. Will you condescend to cooperate?"

Julien glanced sideways at Nigel. "Are you quite through being popular?"

"Liesl kisses like snogging a bowl of jelly," Nigel pinked Julien's fair skin again, "and doesn't take no for an answer. You're welcome to have her back."

"I don't want her," Julien scowled.

"Well next time why don't you tell your father that, rather than steal my life?"

"I didn't steal your life, Longbottom, you offered it to me, if you'll recall. And what are you doing snogging Liesl? I thought you had your eye on Adriana." That eyebrow arched again, something cold settling into Julien's features.

"Not since Christmas," Nigel grumbled back. He was relieved that the rumors of his discussion with Adriana had not managed to find their way all about the school, and was pleased at her discretion. Then remembered his mother's presence, and he smiled tightly. "We're ready, Mum."

Hermione listened to this bit of byplay with Ron and Viktor running through her head as though the Yule Ball had been only yesterday. It was a moment before she came back to herself. "Very well. I need you to hold your hands _so_ \--" she moved them where she needed them, fingers interlaced in an odd way "and to look each other in the eye, please. Hold right there, yes." She glanced at Nigel's parchment one last time, touched her wand to their joined hands, and said a string of words that sounded like childish backwards-gibberish.

Nigel went perfectly still, his fingers intertwined again with Julien's. He didn't want to look up, but knew that refusing would only bring questions, and so he met Julien's clear gaze, unable to read anything there in return, Julien having settled somewhere behind a remote, haughty mask that stretched Nigel's features in ways that made him uncomfortable to see. His skin tingled all over again, prickling with the spell and the memories of its last casting, and he shivered, fingers clenching tightly. He wanted to close his eyes, look away from Julien as the mask slipped and he saw memories behind the other boy's eyes, as he relived his own.

Then suddenly he was staring at Julien's flushed features from his own comfortable height. He tried to pull back, but Julien didn't move and his fingers remained caught. He felt warmth on his cheeks, saw it echoed in Julien's fair skin, and once again felt uncomfortably tight within his own body.

"Is all well, you two?"

It didn't seem as if she had noticed anything, his Mum's voice being calm, perhaps a bit concerned. "Yes, Mum." Nigel replied as he yanked his hand back, rubbing his palm roughly against his robes.

"Thank you, Professor Longbottom." Julien's voice was cool and proper, under calm control once more. "It seems I may have damage control to do, in the wake of your son's lack of social knowledge."

Hermione inclined her head regally. "You are welcome, Julien. I hope the repair is not too arduous."

His smile was bland, but tight around the edges. "For a Malfoy? Nothing is impossible." He nodded, and left, Nigel slumping as soon as he was gone.

"And I've got a month and a half of studying for NEWTS to catch up on. Which means I ought to get started straight away if I'm to do well enough to go into Healing," Nigel admitted.

"I have every faith you will do well," she said, looking at her son with pleasure and appreciation in her now-kindly brown eyes. "A kiss for your old mum before you go? No one's looking."

He obliged with a kiss on the cheek. "It's only another few months, and I won't have to share a dorm with Malfoy any longer." He sighed, scrubbing a hand through untamed short curls. "And if I remember not to listen to a word he says, it'll be that much more peaceful."

"Go and study, dear. I expect that will do you more good than anything I can say." She tipped up his chin to force him to look her in the eye. "I love you, Nigel Longbottom."

His smile wavered, but he managed to meet her gaze as he spoke. "Love you too, Mum." Then his gaze slipped away.

"Go on, now. I've work to be at, if I'm not to be late to dinner with your father."

"Tell him I've sent my love, alright?" He gave her another kiss on the cheek, then slowly walked from the room. Much as he disliked the idea, he had to find Julien and give him a few things that had come while they were swapped, things he hadn't had the chance to give to him before with the folks always hovering all about.

#

Nigel was relieved to find their room empty when he returned, save for Julien curled on his bed, curtains half drawn. He dropped his bag on his own bed, then tried to remember where he'd left... oh yes, Julien's trunk, of course, where it would have made sense since he was Julien at the time. He knelt at the end of Julien's bed, trying to work the catch.

"I thought you'd had quite enough of being me," Julien drawled. "Or do you find a fond remembrance for my things?"

"Actually, you received an owl yesterday, and there was no time I could find where it would be logical for you to deign to talk to me, so I put it away until we could change back," Nigel explained. He sat back quickly as Julien rolled to the end of the bed, hanging off and opening the trunk. "I didn't open it."

Julien rummaged around amongst his things, finding the envelope. "Ah, excellent." A grin lit pale features. "From Seph. Haven't heard from him in an age, since they sent him to Egypt last September."

Pucey. Right, well that just brought back lovely images of Pucey having Adriana backed up against a tree, which left Nigel with conflicting emotions of wanting to punch the bastard and wanting to take his place. Suddenly uncomfortable, Nigel sat with his back against Ian's trunk, across the room from Julian, and bent his knees to hid his discomfort. "Er. How is he then? Did you, er... did you know he dated Adriana?"

"He tried," Julien said with a dry laugh. "Thought she'd tumble for him if she tumbled for anyone, but no, she put him in his place with a knee to the crotch and sent him on his way." He glanced up as he slid a letter opener through the sealing wax. "Why, you worried about having gone places Seph didn't manage to go?"

Nigel laughed, the sound bitter to his ears. "No, we're just friends. You were right about what you said, she's been fancying Rose for years. Which is a pity, since I doubt Rose has a clue." He and Adriana had spoken several times since Christmas, with her telling him of her fancies, and encouraging him to find a fancy of his own.

Julien unfolded the parchment. "I see you've finally learned to look beyond the end of your nose, Longbottom. Keep your eyes open, who knows what else you might see." He fell silent as he scanned the page, then shifted, gaze flicking back to the top, tracking over the words again slowly. He crumpled the letter at the end, whipping his wand out to set the letter ablaze, watching as it fell to ash on the floor. "Bad news," he said, voice tight from behind an inscrutable mask.

"Er." Nigel stared at the smoking ashes on the floor, and quickly grabbed his wand to vanish the evidence before someone came to investigate. "What sort of news is that bad?"

Julien stood, searching for his broom. "I'm going flying, Longbottom. If anyone asks, I'll be back for dinner. Perhaps. I haven't decided yet."

Nigel was on his feet by instinct, one hand reaching out to tug at Julien's shoulder. "Oi, Malfoy, fly when you're that hacked off and you're likely to..." his voice trailed off as Julien turned to face him. "Are you... er... are you crying?"

"Say one word, Longbottom, one word to anyone else and I shall hex you into oblivion," Julien snarled. "Just let me go."

Nigel's hand dropped away as if Julien's shoulder had burned. "I'm not likely to say a word, Malfoy, but why the _fuck_ are you crying over a prat like Pucey?" He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, realization snapping into his mind abruptly enough to send him two steps backward. "Oh bloody hell. You and _Pucey_?"

Julien rounded on him, fists curled into tight balls held stiffly at his side. "_NO!_ Never Pucey. No matter how much I wanted, no matter how much he knew of me. I let him see who I was and it amused him to have me dance attendance on him, _hoping_ that he might someday look beyond his ridiculous _issues_, and after months of silence he sends me a _marriage announcement_. He _knew_ how I felt, he was the only bloody person I ever let _see_ and he doesn't even have the guts to write a personal letter."

Nigel hesitated, took a step forward. "If you knew he wasn't going to change, why still chase after him?" He couldn't see the appeal in Pucey, never really had understood why Adriana had seemed to fancy him years ago.

A soft snort of dry laughter. "Haven't you ever fancied someone you knew bloody well you couldn't have, Longbottom?" One eyebrow arched, waiting, and Nigel ducked his gaze as Julien continued. "There's the story of my life. Never got the hang of fancying the bent ones, just keep getting the straight ones wrapped around my heart somehow."

"There's... more than one?" Nigel was still wrestling with the idea that Julien wasn't straight himself, after years of listening to him railing against his father. He couldn't even start to touch the idea that Julien had a heart... and that it was being broken, apparently repeatedly.

Julien shook his head. "Never mind; I don't want to stand around and discuss my horrid taste in men. A topic which, you understand, will not leave this private conversation between us." Grey eyes pinned Nigel, an unusual vulnerability hidden inside.

Nigel reached for his broom, not answering. "You oughtn't fly alone when you're a wreck, Malfoy. Wouldn't do if you were to be injured before our match this weekend. When Ravenclaw takes the cup, I want everyone to remember it was taken away from Slytherin's grasp fair and square."

"Is that a challenge?" Julien found his own broom, tossing it over his shoulder. "If you think you can get out of your books long enough for a turn around the pitch, then."

Nigel looked longingly at the backlog of studying he still had, the book staring at him from the bed. But given the situation? Best to fly. "Let's go."

#

They'd decided on a simple game, competition making all else take flight. Each time they released the Snitch, counted to ten, and both raced to collect it. The first round Julien won, snatching the Snitch from the air when Nigel lost track of it in the fading light. The second round Nigel claimed the Snitch after a deep dive that Julien had not followed him into, believing it to be merely a Wronski Feint. Then darkness fell around them, leaving them in moonlight, the Snitch's wings faintly blurred and barely visible. And neither was willing to leave it at a tie, and so, they chased the Snitch again.

They flew shoulder to shoulder, both laid low over their brooms. Nigel's heart hammered. He could see it. Just barely, almost invisible in the darkness, but it was there, not too far ahead. It paused, hovering, then abruptly shifted direction. But before he could angle his broom, he caught a hint of motion from his right, moving too quickly to dodge.

Then he was airborne.

Tumbling head over heels, falling too quickly, and too nauseous from rotation to even think of finding his wand from his pocket.

"NIGEL!"

Was that Julien yelling? He felt the sting of a spell fly by him, close enough to ruffle his robes, heard the whoosh of a broom rushing down, but not fast enough as he thumped against the too hard ground.

Oh dear Merlin that hurt. He closed his eyes against the spinning and just tried to breathe and count body parts, hoping they were all still attached. And breathing _hurt_.

"Shit, Nigel." Julien's broom clattered to the ground, the other boy landing on his knees roughly beside Nigel. "Tell me I haven't gone and killed you, or broken your fool neck."

"Not dead," Nigel managed to gasp between pained breaths. "Can't say... for the neck. Ribs," he decided, definitely broke at least one or two of those. "Bloody hell, Julien, what were you thinking?"

He opened his eyes, finding Julien too close above him, hands planted on either side of Nigel's shoulders staring down. Relief lit pale eyes, then Julien's face swam in his vision, too close to focus on, and Nigel winced, closing his eyes against the burgeoning double vision. "Concuss... what?" he mumbled as something pressed against his mouth, then hands against both cheeks, fingers splayed. Another soft touch to his forehead, fleeting and gone.

"Don't move, if your neck's hurt we can't move you," Julien said quietly. "I'll have to go get someone." He lightly brushed Nigel's fringe from his face. "I didn't mean to hurt you. The Snitch shifted direction."

"_Now_ he learns to follow the Snitch," Nigel managed a dry laugh, remembering their first altercation on this pitch, years before. "We've come full circle, only this time it's me on my back."

"Promise you won't move."

Another faint touch against his lips, and this time Nigel opened his eyes to find Julien staring down at him from far too close. "Did you kiss me, or am I hallucinating?"

Julien looked away. "You're hallucinating." Rolling back on his heels, he ordered sharply, "Stay there and I'll be back in a bit with Madam Pomfrey."

"I'm fine." The pain had dulled into the one in his ribs, which poked sharply as he leveraged himself to sit up, and the swimming vision from the concussion he was fairly certain he had. "And while I _am_ seeing two of you, I'm fairly certain that at least _one_ of them just kissed me. Twice."

Julien sat back on his heels, crouched by Nigel, lips pursed. "Yes."

Once Nigel had managed to sit and was still again, the world didn't swim so much around him, and he could focus on Julien's sour expression. "Was it... was it that _bad?_"

"What?" The question surprised Julien, the mask slipping for a moment. "No, it wasn't bad at all. Considering your lack of experience kissing either men or women, it was unexpectedly decent."

Nigel laughed, the sound turning into a groan as something twinged painfully. "If you didn't expect it to be decent, why the bloody hell did you do it in the first place?"

Julien leaned his elbows on his knees, regarding him. "You are quite blind when you wish to be, Nigel. There can be something there, in front of your eyes, and you don't see a thing."

"Like your mad crush on Seph Pucey?" Nigel couldn't arch an eyebrow normally, and he certainly couldn't when any movement of his eyes sent the world spinning, but he tried anyway.

"Bugger that," Julien said, the sour expression returning. "Seph dangled me for years, and I knew it. Even so, it still hurt that he didn't have the decency to tell me in person, or at least by a personal letter, that he'd gone off and gotten his arse married. No. You can't see a bloody thing about yourself."

Nigel frowned. "When did this conversation become about me?"

Julien arched one eyebrow. "When you were the one who got kissed. Tell me, have you any idea who Raisha Woodbridge is?" At Nigel's blank look he went on. "Ravenclaw, our dormitory, fifth year. The exotic little blond with excellent assets and a dreadful tendency to wear pink."

Nigel searched his now slightly foggy memory and found her there, studying in the common room. "Right, yes. I remember."

"Did you have any idea that she's had a fancy for you all year? Liesl tells me that she'd laid plans to entrap you into a spot of tea Hogsmeade weekend if you hadn't called off sick."

"She did?" Nigel shook his head, which was the wrong reaction, stomach heaving. "Merlin," he gasped, leaning over, Julien's hand at the nape of his neck. "No, no, I'm alright, just... I need to remember not to do that."

Julien's fingers tangled in the hair that brushed the top of his collar. "I'd say lie back, but you won't listen to a damned thing I say, will you." It wasn't a question, nor was it acerbic.

When Nigel glanced at him, he wasn't sure what to think of his expression. If anything, Julien looked bemused. "Are you considering kissing me again?" Nigel asked.

"Actually, yes," Julien admitted. "Would you object?"

"What about Pucey?"

"Bugger Pucey."

Nigel snorted softly. "Isn't that what he said no about?" There was something else, but he forget whatever it was as Julien tugged him closer and claimed his mouth. Firm, soft, pleasant. Not nearly so _wet_ as kissing Liesl. No, wait, oh that was different. He sighed against Julien's mouth, his own opening to let Julien deepen the kiss.

Julien stopped as soon as Nigel made a sound of pain, wincing in sympathetic reaction. He leaned forehead to forehead, waiting for Nigel to shift to a more comfortable seat. "Tell me you aren't about to ask why I've kissed you."

"I'm beginning to suspect you might just fancy me."

Julien smirked. "Five points to Ravenclaw. Now the question is, considering you've yet to belt me, do you happen to have a response?"

Nigel flushed deeply. "Er. Rather. Yes."

One eyebrow arched delicately. "Would that mean you might be amenable to continuing?"

"Are you asking me to believe that you've fancied me, and that I ought to question my own sexuality and sit around snogging a Malfoy?" Nigel rolled his eyes, regretting that as soon as he did so and falling back onto the grass with a groan. "Oh, for Merlin's sake, get your arse over here. If we're about to prove I'm bent as you are, can't do it with you sitting there staring at me. We need a proper amount of hands on experimentation." When Julien hesitated, Nigel's flush intensified. "Early results are stating that I am far from uninterested in continued snogging. Rather, much of me is wondering why we haven't gone at it again already." He really wasn't comfortable being more explicit than that, but in truth, he was warm and tight all over again, and without the confusion, it was a rather pleasant sensation.

Julien stretched out slowly next to him. "If it hurts your ribs, or your head, say something," he murmured.

Nigel reached cautiously, fingers tangling in Julien's hair, tugging him closer so he could initiate the kiss. And for a long moment he just let himself float, tasting him. Trying different tilts of his head, finding out how they fit together. A soft groan when Julien lay half on top of him, until Julien shifted so as not to push against the worst of the bruises, then sensation chased away the pain again.

He didn't know quite what to do when there were bright lights in the darkness, shining down to illuminate the pitch.

And laughter.

Rather a bit of laughter.

"Forgot we had practice?" Adriana's voice was muffled by the hand covering her mouth, her brilliant smile still visible. "I suppose I can see what might've distracted you."

Oh, bloody hell. Nigel shoved himself up, Julien rolling to one side and into a crouch, grey eyes flashing in the sudden light. Nigel made it to his feet before pain broke through the surprise, catching him sharply in the side and he doubled over. Julien's movement forward stopped, and he turned, catching Nigel and shoving a shoulder under his arm. "Madam Pomfrey. _Now_," Julien ordered. His dark gaze ignored the Ravenclaw team, holding Nigel pinned.

Nigel forced a smile. "Broken rib. Where the hell is my broom? We were flying a bit of practice and someone decided he had to go through me on his way to the Snitch."

"If you'd bothered paying attention, you would've seen it shift direction, Longbottom," Julien drawled, one eye on Adriana.

"Casey, get Longbottom's broom," Adriana snapped. "Everyone else, brooms up, and ten laps about the pitch. Longbottom," her voice softened as everyone scattered, and she sighed. "Go on to the hospital wing and get yourself patched up. Malfoy, if you do anything to keep him from healing properly, or quickly, I'll be calling for a delay of match on account of interference from the Slytherin team. And..." her eyes cast skyward, counting teammates, before she added quietly, "Congratulations. Both of you. Took you long enough to sort that out."

"Er." Nigel's flush intensified all over again. "Are you trying to tell me everyone else saw this but me?"

Adriana shook her head, smiling fondly. "Not a bit. But I've got a bit of perception where such things are concerned, and you two had some serious repression issues. I just hope this doesn't change things on the pitch. We've a match to win."

Julien snorted softly. "No fears for that. I'm still intending to wipe the pitch with Longbottom here."

"Not likely, Malfoy. Soon as I'm put back together, you'd better watch your arse. Or watch mine as I beat you to the Snitch."

One eyebrow arched. Julien ignored Adriana's snicker, murmuring, "It's not such a bad arse to watch." And smirked as Nigel's skin warmed all over again.

"Madam Pomfrey," Nigel managed to say. "Apparate us; I don't think I can manage." He glanced at Adriana, who was still laughing as Julien turned them both, and the world shifted.

#

Later that week, after Charms, Nigel walked up to the front of the classroom and asked, "Mum, have you got a minute?" At the call from the door of "Longbottom!" he turned to see Julien standing there, the practice Snitch pinned between his fingertips, wings beating madly. "I'll be along in a minute, just, wait outside, alright?" he called back. And of course, instead, Julien took up stance right in the doorway, leaning back against the frame, arms crossed as if to guard against anyone else coming into the classroom.

"I have," Hermione said, setting her floating diagrams to rights. "Here, or in my office?"

"Ah, er..." Nigel cast a glance towards Julien, who was studying the opposite wall. Nigel scrubbed a hand through his hair in a gesture utterly reminiscent of his father. "It's er... Julien'll make sure we're not disturbed. Or your office is fine." He couldn't quite manage to stand still, shifting to his other foot, hands dropping to shove into his pockets. He knew rumours had flown about the school; this conversation couldn't be further delayed.

Her clear forthright eyes regarded the young Malfoy straightforwardly. "Is that why you waited, Julien?"

Addressed directly, Julien's gaze swiveled back into the room, to look at her. He let the Snitch go, picking it out of the air cleanly before it could escape. "Your son's out of practice, Professor Longbottom, and I wouldn't have it said Slytherin didn't beat Ravenclaw fairly in tomorrow's match."

She called his bluff immediately, turning back to her podium and the parchments scattered across it. "Then surely this can wait. Go along to practice, Nigel; you're expected on the pitch."

Oh, no, this couldn't wait. One hand across his eyes, pushing back to shove his fringe out of his face, Nigel muttered, "Just close the bloody door, Julien, alright? In or out, whichever you'd rather."

There was a moment's hesitation, then Julien slid to the inner side of the door and nudged it closed.

"Sit down, gentlemen."

Lips pursed, Julien sank with lazy grace onto the surface of one of the desks in the front row. He leaned back, fingers curled over the edge behind him. Nigel shifted to stand next to him, hands still in his pockets, shifting from foot to foot.

"I'd rather not sit, Mum." At the silent response, he drew his hands from his pockets as he leaned one hip against the same desk where Julien sat. Nigel used one hand to steady himself, fingers splayed against the surface of the desk.

Hermione perched on the edge of her desk, arms folded, the picture of the feared Barnstormer. "Yes?"

As Nigel hesitated further, Julien shifted, fingertips just touching where Nigel's hand rested. A smile faltered in Nigel's expression. "I'mgaymum."

"All right," she said calmly. "Where is the difficulty?"

Julien snickered. "I didn't think you'd have issue with it, considering all you've put up with from my father over the years."

"Merlin." Nigel shuddered. "If I _ever_ start mincing about or worrying whether my cravat clashes with the curtains... bloody hell, if I ever start _wearing_ a cravat, just _petrificus_ me until I come to my senses." A deep breath, slowly meeting his mother's eyes. "No difficulty. Just... it's new. Well, not necessarily _new_ exactly, but you've likely heard things, and I oughtn't to've left it like that."

"Be respectful to your father, Julien Malfoy," Hermione said coldly, "as you risk equaling his trying nature. Nigel, whom you care for is none of my concern. That you remain safe _is_, so I should like to know how you came by your injuries and whether they are likely to recur."

Nigel flushed. "Mum. As long as I play Quidditch, it's likely I'll take another tumble from a broom. Especially when this arse tries to fly through me." He nudged Julien with his shoulder.

"Wasn't my fault you didn't see the Snitch shift," Julien arched one eyebrow, shouldering him back. "You're going blind, Longbottom. We're likely to wipe the pitch with you lot tomorrow if your whole team plays like that."

"We were flying for the Snitch, best two out of three, and it was third try," Nigel explained. "Snitch moved, Julien followed, I missed it and fell."

"Gentlemen," she called them to order. "Nigel, why did you not simply say so?"

Nigel blinked. "Er. We just did?"

"Three days later."

"Mum," Nigel protested, "I was in the hospital wing and Madam Pomfrey's gotten positively dotty, I swear, she wouldn't listen to a thing I said about being fine and made sure I slept for near twenty-four hours straight. Adriana's been helping me catch up on my work since then."

"Nigel. No child of mine speaks so disrespectfully about his elders." Hermione's eyes rested on Julien, oddly.

"Sorry, Mum," Nigel's gaze dropped.

Julien's fingers slid over Nigel's, tangling with them, as his cool grey gaze met Hermione's. He inclined his head questioningly.

"Apology accepted. Is that all, gentlemen?"

"I'd appreciate if you'd let me speak with my father," Julien said quietly. "I've owled him, asking him to come in this weekend. I've an engagement to break, and I can't think he hasn't heard yet, but the rest is mine to do." He reached into his pocket, withdrawing the Snitch once more.

It slipped from his fingers and Nigel grabbed it, handing it back. "Keep a hold of it, Julien." Looking at Hermione, he stepped forward, leaning to kiss her on the cheek. "All set, Mum. And thanks."

She gave her son a one-armed hug; any more than that would embarrass him in front of his new boyfriend. Unless, this once... She held out her other arm to Julien.

Julien hesitated, pointed chin tilted, the perfect image of a Malfoy. Then he slowly unbent, shoving the Snitch safely back into a pocket so he could twine fingers with Nigel once more as he allowed the hug.

"All right," she said after a moment, hiding her reluctance to release her hold on both her boys. "The awful moment is over and done with. Go play, gentlemen."

Nigel leaned in and kissed her cheek again. "You'll be there tomorrow for the match, right Mum? I think Neah's coming in."

"Still nattering are you, Nigel?" Julien's dry tone was tinged with fond warmth. A moment's hesitation, then he echoed Nigel's motion, a dry brush of lips against Hermione's cheek. Then the two boys withdrew from the room.

Together.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is based on characters and situations inspired by the game The Cold War. Many thanks are due to players from that game for answering questions and supplying help with their characters as I worked on this piece.
> 
> Please note that while this work is marked explicit, the explicit text only appears in the final chapter, after the characters are of age.
> 
> **Disclaimer:** I do not own, nor gain anything from, the world of Harry Potter. That belongs to JK Rowling. I just like to write in it, and Nigel, Julien, and Adriana are mine all mine and live in my head.

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[character: adriana fawcett-edgecombe](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/character:+adriana+fawcett-edgecombe), [character: julien malfoy](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/character:+julien+malfoy), [character: nigel longbottom](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/character:+nigel+longbottom), [fic](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/fic), [game: the cold war](http://tryslora.insanejournal.com/tag/game:+the+cold+war)  
  
---|---  
  
### Chapter 9

**Coda (the summer after 7th year)**

_Looking at you, holding my breath  
For once in my life I'm scared to death  
I'm taking a chance letting you inside_  
\-- Lifehouse

 

There were footsteps on the stairs, hesitating at the second landing, then one or two steps onto the third flight before stopping. Nigel paused in his unpacking, the plant Heather has gift him with just that morning in his hands. He turned towards the open door to the flat. "Come on up."

 

"Trusting sort, aren't you? I could be anyone," Julien called back as he climbed the last few stairs. "Bloody hell, Nigel, did you have a purpose making me hike up all those stairs?" He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, looking around the parts of the tiny flat he could see from that vantage point.

 

"Couldn't think it would be anyone else but you." After all, Nigel had planned dinner here for his family tomorrow, specifically so he could have his privacy here today. He shifted the plant from one hand to the other, then finally set it aside on the nearby table, not certain what else he could possibly do with it. "And er, yes, actually, I did." When he pushed the door closed, Julien quickly slipped out of the way and let him do so.

 

"Are you planning to tell me what that is?" Julien stepped in further, taking in the tiny kitchen with a Muggle fridge that might hold a day or two's worth of food, the dining table that split the kitchen from the tiny living room. The door to the bathroom and the door to the bedroom were both visible from that same vantage point, showing that all of it was just as small. And all the edges had sloped ceilings, a full eight feet high at the center of the room, but narrowing to barely five feet, maybe less, at the edges.

 

"Actually," Nigel scrubbed at his hair. "I, er… I live here now. While I'm apprenticing at St. Mungo's, I thought I'd rather stay someplace closer than Apparate every day from Ottery St. Catchpole. And well, get out on my own."

 

Julien swiveled in place to look at him, one eyebrow arched. "Really then."

 

Nigel couldn't read his expression, and wasn't certain Julien quite understood what it was he was trying to say here. "Er. Yes. Really. I rather… home was…" he stumbled to a stop. "I love the cottage, but it was cloying," he finally managed to stammer out. "Not in a bad way, but well, I'm an adult now and…" He stopped as Julien smirked fondly.

 

"You wanted privacy?"

 

Nigel felt the flush begin at the nape of his neck, coloring his fair skin bright red. "Rather. Yes."

 

Julien picked up the plant, looking at it briefly to identify it from Herbology courses, then set it down. "Any reason why you're not on Diagon Alley, where they might not wonder about this sort of thing?" He tapped the magical plant.

 

"Flats there come quite dear," Nigel admitted. "And while this one's expensive, I can almost afford it."

 

A soft beat of silence. "Almost?"

 

"Well." Nigel hesitated as well, then frowned, interrupting his own thought. "What did you do to your hair?"

 

Julien snickered. "You didn't notice until just now? Cut it." There was a measure of disappointment in his eyes that didn't make it into the careful mask as he shrugged. "Father said long hair is terribly overdone, and that to make a proper statement in the current trends it had to be shorn." A flick of his fingers mimicked the spell to do so, and another shrug told Nigel as clearly as anything else that Julien hadn't a choice in the matter.

 

"I preferred it long," Nigel admitted. He closed the distance between them, reaching up to see it with his fingers as well, tracing the length of the short, almost spiky, strands. Julien shivered beneath his touch, that shudder sending warmth to Nigel's belly. After their few months together, even the most simple reactions still affected him sharply. Perhaps it was a side effect of not enough privacy and too much anticipation. He rather hoped to remedy that soon.

 

Julien reached up, echoing the motion by threading his fingers through Nigel's hair. "I think it's shorter than yours now," he observed. "But yours is starting to curl."

 

They were talking about hair. And standing close enough that he could feel Julien's breath against his face, warm and slightly minty. He ought to do something about that.

 

Even after all this time, there was still swift pleasure from each kiss, and a sense of theft, as if it must be stolen quickly before they were caught. They had been conditioned to listen for every noise, every possible interruption from roommates, housemates, parents, professors… they rarely had a moment alone while still in school, and afterwards had had a difficult time dodging parents.

 

But this time… as Nigel sank into the kiss, he realized he didn't have to pull back quickly. His hand tightened against Julien's head, cradling his skull as he leaned into him, mouth opening and tongue tasting.

 

"Weren't you about to say something?" Julien murmured finally, breaking the kiss to wrap his arms about Nigel's waist, keeping him close.

 

"I was? Er… I… oh, yes." Nigel's eyes closed as he leaned there, forehead to forehead. "I can almost afford the flat. Would likely be easier if I had someone about to share in the costs a bit."

 

Julien twisted, glancing at the door to the bedroom. "Where the hell would you put them?"

 

Oh that hadn't worked at all. "Er. In there. Yes. It's only got the one bedroom, and I suspect the landlord might notice if I squeezed a second into the same space."

 

Julien stared at him, and Nigel stared back.

 

"It was only a thought," Nigel said finally. "I mean, we've certainly managed not to kill each other as roommates for the last seven years, and I've grown rather accustomed to your snoring…"

 

"I do _not_ snore," Julien sniffed.

 

Nigel snorted. "Yes, you do. And well, I thought you might want a bit of privacy too. Although admittedly, it's not entirely private when you've someone else knocking about the flat as well, but it'd be just… us."

 

He knew how this sounded, how much of a bloody _girl_ he was being to ask. But he didn't want commitment. He didn't want a big deal. He just… wanted the roommate he knew he could live with.

 

And he'd been thinking about that damned bed since he'd taken the keys earlier in the day.

 

"Is this some sort of a proposal?" That one eyebrow arched as Julien retreated behind the cool Malfoy mask.

 

"Merlin, no. I need a roommate. You need to get out from under your father's thumb and be on your own, right?" Nigel said, pulling away as nerves claimed him. He shoved his hands into his pockets, shrugging. "I thought it might be a help for the both of us."

 

When he glanced back, Julien stood, wand in hand, surveying the walls. "White does not suit," he mused. "I assume your landlord allows you to paint?" At Nigel's wary nod, Julien cast, changing the bland white to a proper green. "Better."

 

"Green? I'll feel like I'm living in the greenhouse, I was rather planning on blue." Nigel drew his wand, mimicking the same spell to change the walls to Ravenclaw blue.

 

Julien smirked. "What makes you think you get to be the one to choose?"

 

"I found the flat."

 

"I'm rescuing you by agreeing to be your roommate."

 

Nigel nudged him with his hip. "I don't need to be rescued; I'm certain I could find another roommate. Seamus, maybe."

 

Julien sniffed. "I don't think so. But, I must insist." He cast again. "Green."

 

"Blue." Nigel laughed, wand still out, casting as quickly as Julien countered with a snort of his own, the walls shifting colour around them until both boys finally stopped, having left an odd mottled shade upon the walls.

 

"It's better than polkadots," Julien leaned against Nigel, weak with laughter.

 

"And there aren't any loons," Nigel agreed, gasping for a good breath between laughs. "I almost rather like it, like being underwater."

 

"Slytherin green and Ravenclaw blue entwined."

 

Those thoughts slithered in again, wrapping around his center and squeezing to steal his breath away. "Gives a bloke ideas," he blurted.

 

"Does it?" Already close, Julien managed to slip behind Nigel's back, arms wrapped about his waist, hands pressed against his abdomen, as he nuzzled the nape of Nigel's neck. At the flush, he snickered softly. "As endearing as I find that pink tint you have just now," Julien murmured, "I do hope that eventually you shall be able to think, let alone say, the words 'shag' or 'wank' without turning such an amusing colour."

 

"What makes you... think that's what I was thinking about?" Nigel stumbled over his words, breath catching as Julien nipped the skin where shoulder met neck. But it was, of course, exactly what he was thinking about: a visceral memory of the one time they'd manage to capture some time alone together in their room at Hogwarts, almost naked, fumbling to touch each other... barely managing to put themselves back together and for Nigel to scramble into his own bed instead of Julien's as Chase walked in. He remembered lying there, aching, wanting more and knowing that it was impossible while they were still at Hogwarts. Impossible at his own home, impossible at Julien's home. Wondering when it would ever be possible.

"It's what I was thinking of," Julien admitted in a rush of warm breath against Nigel's cheek. "Shag, preferably, although wank would certainly be an improvement with you, rather than thinking of you while I do."

"You think of me when you, er..." Nigel felt Julien's nod, cheek against cheek. The flush intensified, body tightening from head to toe, hands settling over Julien's to grip tightly. "Ah. Er... well... the place is furnished. I mean... er... there's a bed... in the bedroom."

"I saw," Julien murmured. "Does that mean you'd like us to be in it?"

"Better than the sofa I'd think." The words slipped out in quick retort as Nigel turned in the circle of Julien's arms to face him. "I mean... we're private here. Finally. If you'd like." His hand slipped up to touch Julien's cheek, hesitant at first, then pressing against the warm skin. "I er... I hope you'd..." he leaned in to kiss him again, rather than speak.

 

"What?" Julien murmured against his lips, shifting to trail slow kisses along Nigel's jawline. "If you can't tell the answer to that, then you aren't as observant as I've come to expect." They weren't quite of a like height, Julien a mere two inches taller, but they still _fit_ neatly together.

And like that, yes, Nigel rather could tell. Quite. Which only warmed him further as his body thrilled to the sensation and the knowledge that he was somehow arousing Julien like that. "Well... then. Oughtn't we...?"

Julien drew back enough to look Nigel in the eye. "There's something we ought to get straight first."

"So to speak?" When Julien didn't smile, Nigel felt the bottom fall out of his stomach. "Er. What would that be?"

"I know bloody well this is your first time," Julien said quietly. "And I'd like to think you already realize that it's my first time as well. But just in case you think I might've gone off and gotten it overwith somewhere, I haven't."

Oh. Ah. Er... "Actually, I rather hadn't thought about it that way." It took everything Nigel had not to let his gaze drop away in the sudden flush of confusion. "I mean. I'd hope at least one of us has an idea what we're doing."

 

"I know exactly what I'm doing," Julien's tone was most definite. "And if you'll listen to what I'm saying, you'll accept the sappy moment for what it is, since it might well never happen again."

"We can't have more than one first time," Nigel pointed out, starting to smile slightly.

Julien snorted. "Quite." He tilted in until they leaned forehead to forehead. "Are you as bloody well _nervous_ about this as I am?" Julien whispered.

Nigel had thought it was only him, and hearing those words was such strange relief. "Rather," he whispered in return. "Perhaps we ought to get it over with so we can relax and enjoy it the second time round?"

"That's one way to look at it." Julien drew back, one finger worrying at the button at his throat, undoing it to bare a small flash of pale skin.

"Wait." Nigel held up one finger, turning away to look at the door. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly to bring himself back under control and center his mind so his spellwork didn't go awry. First a spell to lock the door, just in case inquisitive neighbors chose this moment to be friendly. Then a quick check of the privacy spell he'd worked earlier (he didn't want to hear his downstairs neighbors any more than he wanted them to overhear his own activities). That done, he turned back to Julien, trying to smile past the nerves. "Come here."

One eyebrow arched. "You always have loved ordering a Malfoy about, Longbottom." Still, he stepped close enough, hands resting against Nigel's waist.

"While I wouldn't mind watching you undress, I'd rather be involved in the process," Nigel admitted. He nudged a kiss, a soft noise low in his throat as Julien responded by pressing closer. He had to keep some piece of his mind coherent, held back from the kiss, so fingers could work to tug the shirt Julien wore free from his waistband, hands finding skin beneath, pressing at the small of his back. Fingers splayed, stroking up his spine, reveling in that close contact and the feel of his smooth skin.

"Don't take all day," Julien's voice was tight as his grip tightened on Nigel, thumbs pressed in against his pelvis.

Nigel had no intention of taking _too_ long, but he wanted to take long enough to explore thoroughly. He tugged Julien's shirt up, wrestling to get it over his head, pausing as soon as his chest was exposed. Suddenly nerveless fingers dropped the shirt on the floor.

It wasn't as if he'd never seen Julien shirtless before. He most certainly had, many times in the last years, and often enough after their relationship had changed. But this time there was intent, and a charge in the air around him as Nigel thought about what this half-nudity meant.

Julien watched him with warm grey eyes. "Take yours off," he said quietly, tugging Nigel's shirt loose.

It was a smoke grey t-shirt, something advertising music he'd never heard of, picked up last week when he'd realized he needed more clothing that looked right out and about in the Muggle world as he looked for a flat. Nigel gripped the edge, pulling it out of Julien's grip as he yanked it over his head and let it fall to join Julien's in a puddle upon the floor. He tried to resist the urge to cross his arms or otherwise cover his chest, winter pale rather than Julien's ethereal glow, skinny more than slender.

"Don't." Julien grabbed one hand, stopping him before he could do just that.

 

Nigel rerouted his reach, touching Julien's chest instead, stepping closer as he pressed his hand over Julien's heart, feeling the thudding beat racing in time with his own. "Terrified," he admitted again, staring at the skin beneath his hand rather than meeting Julien's eyes. He slowly splayed his fingers, thumb just brushing against the flat nipple. Julien's hiss of indrawn breath drew Nigel's gaze back up, and he deliberately did it again to feel that thudding beat leap under his palm at the touch.

"You're going to kill me here."

 

A moment's heartbeat at those words, then Nigel was gathered into Julien's arms, the kiss wiping every other thought from his mind. Chest to chest, skin warming with delighted flush, jeans far too tight as his body ached. Nigel didn't let go, simply turned in place, stumbling at trying to walk without breaking the kiss. And Julien followed, entwined with him, until the bed was behind Nigel and he fell, tumbling both of them onto it.

Julien stretched over him, eyes wide and bright in a face flushed rose as his hips ground against Nigel's. "Merlin." Soft oath, hoarse and rough and barely held together, all composure fled.

Nigel reveled in that rough sound, in that idea that _he_ had this affect on Julien, enough to shred that Malfoy armor. He shifted, groaning as Julien settled more properly in the cradle of his bent legs, perfectly able to feel how aroused they both were.

"Too many clothes."

It didn't matter which of them spoke. Julien sat back on his heels, wrestling with his slacks as Nigel yanked the buttons free of his jeans. Such relief as they came loose, his eyes closed a moment against the rush of sensation of his own fingers tugging himself free of the confinement. A soft hiss of breath, then fingers joining his, lightly stroking him through the fabric of his boxers. Nigel couldn't help but arch into the touch. Nigel opened his eyes once more, fascinated by the look on Julien's face. He managed to wrestle one hand into motion, touching Julien's cheek to gain his attention. "K... keep that up, I won't last until we're undressed."

Weight left the bed as Julien rolled off, shedding slacks and briefs and kicking them aside. He knelt, hiding his own slender form as he worked to pull free Nigel's jeans, then a moment later, the boxers, leaving them both naked. Julien stood at the foot of the bed, erection stark and darkly hungry against pale skin. He crawled back up, nudging Nigel's knees wide as he approached.

Nigel leaned up on his elbows, cock twitching. He wanted to reach out, to touch, but when he started to move, Julien shook his head ever so slightly. One hand pressed against Nigel's inner thigh, gliding up to grasp the thick cock waiting for him. "Just let me look," Julien murmured.

Nigel fell back against the pillows with a whisper of a moan. "Bossy. Won't let me... touch you?"

Julien chuckled. "Not yet. Can't let you get me off by accident, and I'm harder than rock for you just now." He stroked along the length of Nigel's cock, rolling his hand over the head with gentle roughness. He leaned in, just the tip of his tongue grazing the root of that hard length. His thumb stroked as he drew a line along the vein on the underside with his tongue, all the way to the tip. "I'm going to be the top," he murmured, warm breath tickling Nigel's hot skin.

"T... top?" Nigel's hands fisted in the comforter, twisting it roughly as he tried not to let go just _yet_.

Julien's mouth engulfed the head of his cock, tongue swirling about it, tasting the saltiness. Nigel growled his groan, forgetting he'd asked the question entirely, almost not understanding as Julien quietly responded, "I'm going to fuck you, love."

"I... is that how it's going to work?" Nigel wrestled with language, determined to finish this conversation with some understanding of it. He rather supposed one of them would take the other when all was said and done, even if he was fuzzy on the specifics.

Julien nodded, taking Nigel's cock further into his mouth with each motion. Hands caressed Nigel's balls, strong touch, just right, making blood boil and his balls tighten, aching for release. Julien let him slip free, nuzzling him. "It's going to hurt." Soft, sorrowed, apologetic. "I'll try not to."

Words he'd never thought he'd say to Julien Malfoy, not until these last few months, blurted out in a hoarse, honest whisper. "I trust you."

_You shouldn't._

Nigel wasn't sure those words happened, that they slipped through the air to his ears, or whether he read them from the tension of Julien's body. But any response was lost as Julien took him into his mouth again, swallowing him deeply in an unexpected motion that made Nigel jerk his hips up. "M... Merlin... Julien... d... don't... I'm going to..." One hand managed to free itself from the comforter to catch Julien's head, fingers threading through the short hair, clinging desperately. "Julien... I'm..."

But Julien only stopped long enough to cast a spell, practiced wandless, coating his fingers in thick lubricant. Nudging Nigel's knees a wee bit further part, Julien stroked one finger gently against Nigel's ass.

That... Nigel's hips jerked uncontrollably again as he felt that finger press, stretching him, entering up to one knuckle. It... didn't exactly _hurt_, but he was _aware_ of it. So very, very aware of it. And when Julien found his cock once more with his mouth, while flexing that invading finger, it was more than he could take. With a shout, fingers tensing in Julien's hair, Nigel arched up and exploded.

Julien choked, swallowing as he pulled back, rubbing the back of his hand against his mouth to erase the traces left behind. He crawled up, straddling Nigel as he leaned over him, fingers threading through his fringe as he looked down at Nigel. "Still with me?"

Heavy eyelids... Nigel worked to open them, looking up at Julien. "There's not a bone left in my body," he moaned softly. "You've wrung me dry."

Julien sat back on his heels over Nigel's hips, resting enough of his weight on his feet to keep from crushing him. "We're not quite done yet. I believe there was something you wished to touch?"

"Don't sound so put out," Nigel snorted softly, waiting a moment to regain control of his limbs. He lifted one hand slowly, fingertips grazing Julien's full lips, drifting lower to trace his collarbone, then slip sideways and down to circle his nipple. Nigel's smile quirked, pleased and possessive at Julien's hiss. "I'm still very much with you." He flushed brightly, adding, "I do believe you said you were going to fuck me."

One eyebrow arched delicately, the expression ruined by a sharp gasp as Julien's eyes fluttered closed when Nigel's hand finally found his cock. "Merlin, _yes_, I am. Very soon, unless you'd like me to lose it right here."

That _power_ was heady; he held Julien, stroking him with his hand. Julien's pleasured moan gave him such pleasure in return. Nigel knew well what motions felt good for himself, and he tried those for Julien, having to shift his grip somewhat for the different angle. Each gasp, each hiss, and Nigel's smile broadened. "I love the way you sound," he murmured.

Julien grabbed his hand, nudging him aside as he pulled back. "Roll over," he said roughly. "It's best, for the first time."

There was something in Julien's gaze, the grey darkened into brewing storms, lightning flashing somewhere inside. Nigel's heart hammered again, flagging cock trying wistfully to come back to life as he rolled onto his knees. He grabbed the pillow, tucking it under his crooked elbows to help him from planting his face into the bed too hard to breathe. He moved as Julien nudged him, this way and that, whimpering softly as he felt Julien find the right position behind him.

As Julien again stroked his ass, spreading lubricant, one finger slipping in to the knuckle, then sliding out again. Another finger joining it, stretching him, filling him... more than he thought he could take, pain and pleasure all at once. Then a pause, and something _more_ behind him, something softer, rounder, _thicker_, harder pushing him wide, forcing his legs apart as he tried to relax and let him in.

_Oh love... oh Merlin. I love you._

Julien stopped as soon as he was in, Nigel's ass hot and stretched, throbbing with blood beating through his veins, blurring words as they were spoken. "Are you alright?" Julien whispered, and at Nigel's nod, Julien began to move.

No words were left, only groans at each stroke, moaning, whimpering, trying to slip away from the pain, then pressing back and wanting _more_, wanting Julien as close as he could get him. Nigel balanced on one elbow, sliding a hand beneath to stroke himself, not quite hard enough to explode all over again, but needing that friction because it felt so _good_.

"Nigel..." Julien's hand joined his, and that touch, that curve of Julien over his back, the nip on his shoulder that anchored him there... that was enough for Nigel. He groaned loudly, nearly frantic in the motion that echoed Julien's thrusts.

The world blurred, greyed, shifted into bright reds as once again, pleasure exploded through Nigel. He heard Julien's shout, felt fingers gripping his hips bruisingly hard. Then legs wavered, wobbled... and he collapsed against the sheets, Julien sliding free as he curled behind him, spooning tightly in against him.

There were no words for this moment, floating in this post-coital sensation. Bliss, perhaps, Nigel thought, but even that did not come close. He found Julien's hand curled against his hip and threaded his fingers with it, squeezing lightly with what little strength he still had. Then he just breathed, the lovers finding soft cadence and rhythm in that breath. In, out. In.... out... Relaxing. Dozing.

#

Nigel rather thought he could used to this, lying in bed with Julien's leg looped over his, one arm wrapped about his center. He sighed, murmuring nothing under his breath as he leaned back into his lover, feeling his warmth all along his body.

Lover. They were, most definitely, lovers now. He had all the pleasant aches to prove it.

"Are you alright?" Julien murmured, breath brushing against his shoulder, accented by a kiss. "There's something I've read that'll help, but I didn't realize I ought to bring it as a housewarming gift."

Nigel rolled onto his back, dragging Julien up to curl against his shoulder, lightly stroking down his side. "I'm fine, truly I am. It aches, but it's in a good way. Although perhaps maybe we ought to wait and not do it again just yet. Give me a chance to recover."

Julien chuckled softly. "All the time you need." There was a hesitation, as if something else were to be said and were left off.

Nigel felt he ought to respond to that thing unsaid. "I trust you, Julien. With everything. My body." A faint flush, since that was rather obvious. "My life." Looking at Julien, neither of those was the right thing to say. The right answer occurred to him at just that moment, and he whispered, "My heart."

No response, not even a breath, as if time froze Julien in that moment.

And Nigel remembered those words he hadn't quite heard. Hadn't been able to respond to at that moment. And so he did, now, kissing the top of Julien's head as he murmured, "And yeah. I love you too."

Julien went boneless in his arms, the whimper of assent almost unheard. Nigel closed his eyes, sighing.

"And to think I was counting down the days until I rid myself of you as a roommate," Nigel said softly. "Time to start counting up, I suppose."

"Counting down seemed to give you something to do," Julien's snark was softened by a sleepy snort. "Why don't we say another seven years and see what happens then."

"It was six years, and ten months," Nigel reminded him, always specific.

Julien rolled his eyes. "Fine, six years, ten months. We'll revisit it then."

Nigel's laugh eased into a sigh, thoroughly relaxed, and starting to drift into an easy sleep.

He'd known then, seven years ago, that there was nothing he could do to get rid of Malfoy.

If only he'd know then how lucky he was.

He nudged a sleepy kiss, and fell asleep.


End file.
